Nica's Story
by smngry
Summary: In the aftermath of Chucky's murderous rampage, Nica finds herself thrust into the hands of the justice system. With nobody to believe her, and time running out will Nica be able to persuade the police that she is innocent? Or will she suffer even more at the hands of Charles Lee Ray?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I - Aftermath**

The clock ticked...

Every tick feeling like a hammer, savagely coming down on a nail in the coffin. She knew this wasn't good. But this was also the last thing that had been planned. She was supposed to be dead now. No more. Finished. A long time coming too by the sounds of it.

She stared, almost in a trance, through the table. Her eyes, glassed over. She was thinking, but all she could think were the same things over and over again.

'Am I losing my mind?' one second.

'What's wrong with me?' the next.

There were two coffee stains on the table top.

'No coasters here.' She mused to herself. 'Suppose it's the last thing on their minds.'

The stains crossed each other, making a crude figure '8' on the surface of the steel table. They were probably there this time last week. Most probably this time last month. They were definitely there when her life was still ticking over just fine. Somebody had made these stains when they were in here, pondering their past, their future, just like she was now. Only these stains, she couldn't stop looking at them, had been made while she was at home, enjoying simple, every day things. Like laundry. People moan about doing the laundry, but right now she'd do baskets full of the stuff. She could do it non-stop for a year and it would be luxury compared to what was round the corner now.

'Some people don't know how lucky they are' the thought rattling around her head.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head but it was no good. There he was. Laughing at her. How? What had she just encountered? It wasn't right. This didn't happen, not to her. Not to anyone in fact. Just the premise was completely absurd. She closed her eyes again and leaned back, inhaling deeply. There he was, staring her straight in the eye. The things he'd said were evil. She had no doubt when looking into his eyes that she was staring straight into a cruel, foul and malevolent place where only darkness and evil dwelled. This was far removed from the idyllic countryside home she knew and loved.

What was she supposed to say now? Who in their right mind would believe her? Nobody. She knew that. But at the same time she knew what she saw. The only rational explanation was that if she saw it, then it must be possible. And if that was the case then she must be able to explain it. But she just couldn't. Even the officer that had found her gave her a look she suspected to be reserved for the craziest of all looneys. She was screaming at him that she wasn't responsible, it wasn't her, why didn't he believe her? If he'd just give her one minute with that thing she'd show him what had happened. She'd prove it to him. Instead he looked at her like she was out of her mind and radioed for backup. He did glance over at Chucky, sat innocently in the rocking chair, but didn't even give him a second thought.

"YOU BASTARD!" She'd screamed at the doll, his red hair ruffled and messy from their encounter.

The response was a sickly "Hi... I'm Chucky... Wanna Play?" The little fucker even turned his head and threw in a couple of blinks too, just for good measure.

The officer had walked around a little, but not too much. She was grateful for that in a way. She may look guilty as hell, but she was safer than she'd been five minutes ago. The officer approached her and asked what had happened, why she had done it, but all she could do was plead with him to believe her. He gave her the crazy look again and continued to look around, taking care not to stray too far from Nica. Eventually medics showed up and were able to patch up her hand and leg then help her into a police car. No hospital, she didn't want that. She figured the police station would be the better option. But her head was a blur. A forensics team arrived on the scene and began the process of taking pictures, dusting items for prints and bagging certain things. She yelled at them all to check the doll, there was a camera on it, the laptop upstairs was still streaming from the camera. She yelled until her throat was hoarse, hoping, willing her voice to be heard from within the secure confines of the police car. But nobody heard her. If they did, not one of them flinched or paid her any attention as she screamed. Instead they stood taking swabs from blood, lifting various items with tweezers and delicately handling evidence. She was sat in the car, resigned to being ignored, when one of the team let out a scream from upstairs.

"We've got a live one here!" They yelled, lungs almost bursting.

Bodies rushed to the stairs as Nica pressed her face up against the glass of the car door. Who had they found? Was it Jill? Holy shit where was Alice? Was it Alice? Nica needed to know. She frantically rattled the handle of the car door, grunting with every push and pull.

"Woah there missy. Where d'you think you're going?" The officer asked from the front seat, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork.

"I need to see who it is! There was a girl, a child!" Her reply was short but she didn't have time to go into detail, "I need to know she's okay!"

"Well just settle down." He clicked his pen and spun around in his seat. "You worried you left a live one? Or do we draw the line at killing kids?"

"What?" Nica hissed, "How can you say that? She's my neice, I need to know she's okay. She was with Chucky this whole time and I never thought I just..."

"You just what?" He jumped in, "Figured there's somebody might rat you out? Somebody you 'forgot' about?"

"No! You're getting this all wrong. I just need to make sure she's okay. She'll tell you! She's been with him since she got here, she'll tell you he's alive!"

"Well to be honest, if it is your neice, then she could just about tell us anything. Kids say things when they're in shock, things they don't understand. And the way I see it, she's gonna be quite cut up about now. So why don't you just sit here and stay calm? You'll be able to tell us everything we need to know down at the precinct don't worry." With that he went back to his paper work and rolled down his window. "Hey Earl, what you say, can I get moving now?"

"Sure thing Officer Stanton. Just give me a minute to back my car out. Never seen so many damned cars sir." Came the reply from Earl, a younger, more rugged looking officer. The pockmarks stood out on his face like a badly burned marshmallow as he took one last puff on his cigarette before throwing it on the drive and stubbing it out with his boot.

"Take your time Earl, we're in no rush." Officer Stanton sighed. He looked in his rear view mirror at Nica. She was still pressing her face against the window, watching vigilantly for any sign of a survivor. "You know, you'll probably fry for what you've done tonight." He calmly muttered.

Nica turned and looked right back at him through the mirror. "Excuse me?" She gasped.

"The law tends to take a firm stance on things like this you know..." He glared straight back, "Mass murder? Frowned upon in quite a lot of places."

"Seriously?" Nica exclaimed in shock. "You think I really did all this? I'm handicapped! You think I'd be able to get the upper hand on three healthy, strong and fully mobile people? What the fuck do you think I am?"

"Let us ask the questions Miss Pirce. Okay?" He put the keys in the ignition and started up the squad car and took a look towards the house. "Oh look, here comes your friend now."

Nica slowly turned her head, afraid to look. What if it was Alice? What if she wasn't okay? What if Chucky had done something? She looked over at the house, expecting to see Alice, but she wasn't there. Members of the forensics team were busy, shipping things between the house and a police van. There were all sorts, all marked in clear plastic bags. Nica couldn't tell how the bags were marked, but she could make out what was in them. A knife, three laptops, a hatchet and Chucky...

Chucky. In an evidence bag. Hair all over. Smiling from ear to ear. Nica looked straight at him and Chucky suddenly spun his head in a quick jerking movement and winked at her.

She stared, palms flat against the glass of the squad car window, as he was led away.

"Hidey ho motherfucker..." spat Nica


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II - Going The Distance**

The police car made it's way down the gravel drive and came to a stop. Officer Stanton checked both ways before slowly pulling out and onto the road, there was a bang from the back of the car and Stanton jumped.

"What the hell was that?" He wondered out loud.

"You've probably just dropped off the kerb a little off centre." Nica answered, staring at her handcuffs in a haze. She felt strange, stoned as a matter of fact. She shook it off and looked at Stanton through his rear view mirror. "Whenever we get deliveries the drivers mention that. I think it's to do with the kerb being raised at one side."

"Raised huh? Thought I'd caught something with the fender." Was Stanton's reply. "Had this car three weeks. Not a scratch. I want to keep it that way."

Nica carried on staring, making as much eye contact as possible. This was a tactic she knew would knock his confidence down, while giving her a boost.

"Well it's nice to see you do care about some things officer."

She let her eyes drift off to the side of the road. Fields and the accompanying fences were whizzing by, a blur of dark wood set against the open expanse of the freshly cut fields. She'd lived in this area for twenty years and never once had she noticed how beautiful the countryside was. She'd considered travelling, believe it or not, without recognising what was on her very own doorstep. Her mother didn't allow her to go far on account of her condition. She figured Nica would be vulnerable and if she were to suffer an attack out here on her own, then god only knows what would happen. She'd suggest from time to time that they went together, that the fresh air could only be a good thing for the both of them. But it was always a negative response. She knew her mother was something of a hermit, never left the house except for the rare occasion Nica had a hospital appointment, or a dental appointment, or any appointment come to mention it. She'd never realised that before. She knew she'd been worse these last few years as Nica was at college, constantly worrying, texting, phoning. It became too much for the both of them in the end. Nica couldn't relax and it became all too routine having to check in every five minutes. If Nica didn't text then there'd be a phone call, in the middle of class, which never sat well with her lecturers. She did resort to turning her phone off a couple of times, but then the calls would go through to the college reception, which meant Nica being summoned by a member of faculty and having to physically leave the class room. In the end she decided to put her degree on hold, just for a bit, maybe till things calmed down, take a year out and go travelling. But she should have known that was a non starter. She wasn't allowed five miles away for crying out loud. So when she finally plucked up the courage to mention it all hell broke loose. There were tears, shouting, then the guilt trip began.

"I didn't devote my life to keeping you safe just for you to go straight out there into god knows what Nica!" She screamed, tears flowing from her eyes. Nica could picture her now, slightly swaying side to side, paint brush in one hand, glass of merlot in the other. "Do you realise the dangers out there?"

"Mom! I don't see the big deal. Lots of my friends have been backpacking across Europe, Australia, all over. I wouldn't be alone either. I'd be with friends." She had pleaded. Sarah seemed taken aback at this.

"What friends?!" She'd asked.

"Mom, I have friends. Okay?" Was that so hard to believe, Nica wondered. "At college, on the internet..."

"THE INTERNET?" Sarah screamed. "Oh Nica, they aren't your friends baby. They're people you talk to, but they're not your friends. You don't know them!"

"Well who do I know mom?" Fighting back the tears Nica continued. "The grocery guy? The paper boy? The Fed Ex guys? Because if it was up to you they'd be the only company I got besides you! I don't want to spend my life trapped in this house, it's a nightmare. Every day the same, do you think that's what I want? Having to rely on you day in day out? I want my independence, I WANT to manage on my own and show you I can do it. Maybe then you'll back off and let me live my life."

"Nica, I'm your mother!"

Nica spun suddenly in her wheelchair, "No mom, you're my warden! You don't think I can do it, but I can. I can do anything I want to!"

An uneasy silence fell over them as they both sat staring at one another. This hadn't been what Nica had wanted, but it felt like a release to finally tell her mother how she felt. Sarah slumped backwards on her chair. She sat down so fast it looked like Nica's words had landed on her chin like a right hook from a champion boxer. She stared vacantly, not at Nica, but through her. Like she wasn't even there.

"All I want is the best for you Nica. You know that." She moved to place her glass on the table she'd set with all her watercolours and missed. The glass shattered into hundreds of pieces, flying off in all directions. But the stem remained intact. Nica wondered why wine glasses always did that. You could guarantee that nine out of ten time you dropped a wine glass, it would shatter into a million pieces, yet the stem always remained in one piece.

"I know you do mom..." Nica wheeled herself forward, feeling a little guilty at letting her feelings rush to the surface like they had. There was no need to be so hard, her mother was a fragile person at the best of times, so it was understandable she'd react in this manner.

"The thing is Nica, you're my baby." Sobbing, she held her hand out. Nica gently grabbed it, entwining their fingers and kissing the back of her hand. "Ever since you were born you've needed me and I don't want that to stop. I just worry about you, I want you to be safe, I want you to have a good life. I love you so much Nica."

"I know. But you've no need to worry. I'm doing well. Dr Masur said so himself. I've come to terms with the fact I'll never be fully discharged from the spinal unit, but as far as he's concerned I'm doing better than ever. For a T5 paraplegic I'm in the best shape possible!" She smiled. " Don't you see? It's driving me crazy in this house, my only escape was college, and now I've had to postpone my education. I just saw this chance to get out there and do something. To make you proud."

"Oh Nica, I am proud of you honey." Sarah smiled back and lifted the back of Nica's hand till it softly brushed her cheek. "I just want you to be safe."

"Did Barb get this? The security issues I mean? Were you this concerned over Barb? Or is it genuinely because of my condition?" Nica knew the answer to this. Barb was the princess and Nica was never allowed to forget that as far as Barb was concerned. True Nica got all the attention, but Barb was the princess.

"Nica, that's different. I love Barb, but she's off doing her own thing. She has Ian, Alice, a successful business. Print Media is going from strength to strength, she doesn't need me like you do..." Sarah relaised what she'd said just as the last word rolled from her tongue. Nica tilted her head slightly and let go of her hand. She rolled backwards.

"I get it mom... What do I have? Except you... And your pity of course..." Nica slowly turned and pushed herself into the hallway and across to the lift. Yet again she'd had her plans snatched away from her, all in the name of her best interests.

BUMP... Nica jolted upright, landing back in the here and now and realised where she was.

"What was that?" Stanton asked.

"Um... What?" Nica replied, feeling groggy.

"Nice to see I care about something huh?" He snapped at her. "Hell I care about a lot of things lady. When an entire family gets wiped out by some psycho on wheels, believe you me, I care!" His eyes had narrowed as she looked at them through the rear view mirror. Almost like a hunter, aiming at some unsuspecting deer down the scope of a high calibre rifle. "I cared about Father Frank too. Until earlier this evening anyway. Tell me is there some sort of curse hanging over you tonight?"

"Father Frank? Wait, I don't get it" Nica was stunned, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, don't play games. He was at your house tonight right?" Stanton had a certain vitriol in his voice now, and Nica didn't like it, not one bit. He'd caught her by surprise and she felt winded.

"Yes. He came over with Barb this afternoon, he stayed for dinner, but he left... He..."

"He's dead!" The car screeched to a stop at some lights. Pulling on the handbrake Stanton spun round in his seat, so much so he was practically in the back of the car with her. "God damn car accident! Took another car with him too."

"I... I... Are you sure?" She spluttered.

"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure. Considering I was there when his fucking head rolled off!" Stanton was furious. His eyes focused on Nica, like they were examining her very soul.

"But how? It must've been an accident. He hadn't had a drink..." Nica muttered.

"He hasn't had a drink in years Nica. I should know, he's my sponsor for crying out loud!"

Nica let the words rattle around inside her head for a few seconds. She couldn't believe this. Everything that had happened tonight, now to find out Father Frank was gone too. Something clicked in Nica's head and she suddenly stopped breathing. She gazed back at Stanton, his nostrils flaring like an animal readying for an attack.

"Are you saying that 'I' had something to do with that?" She whispered.

"You tell me Nica... You tell me... If not it's one hell of a fucking coincidence wouldn't you say?" He slowly returned to his seat and rested his elbow on the window sill. He raised his hand and massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger, as though he felt some motherload of a headache sat in silence. Only the odd bit of static, the crackle of the police band, coming from the cars radio. The lights turned green, Stanton released the handbrake, looked up and the pair rolled on.

It was five, maybe even ten minutes before the silence was broken, and it was Nica who spoke first.

"You seemed to know him well. Father Frank I mean."

"I've known Father Frank for many years. I was of his parish and he used to help out with local crisis centres. He was a speaker at one of my AA meetings and he took me under his wing. Told me he'd been where I was, that if ever I needed anything I could reach out to him, day or night. He was a great man." Stanton's tone had turned from one of anger to one of sorrow.

"I... I'm sorry. I really am. But you have to believe me, I had nothing to do with any of this." She looked dead ahead and Stanton shrugged his shoulders and gave a little laugh.

"Nothing to do with you?" He said. "It's all to do with you Nica." He glanced up again in the mirror. "You know the shit he went through before he found god? All that and he's wiped out in some car accident. It's just not right." He shook his head and allowed a tear to trickle down his cheek before wiping it away with the back of his hand. "Don't get too comfy back there. We're almost here, and from what you've already told me, your night's not about to get any easier"

Nica gazed out the windscreen and could see the police precinct approaching down the street.

'Why do I get the feeling', she thought to herself, 'this is only the beginning?'


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III - A New Home**

The engine roared and the headlights flashed across the dark empty street as Stanton spun the wheel and violently jerked the squad car off the cold, wet street and down a steep incline headed towards the underground parking lot of the police precinct. He slowed a touch and rolled down the driver's side window as he approached the barrier, coming to a stop besides a key pad, the numbers 1-9 just visible to Nica as she adjusted her eyes to the headlights bouncing back at her from her new concrete surroundings. Quickly punching in a pre-set code and rolling his window back up, Stanton released the brake and let the car roll as the barrier lifted, red and white diagonal stripes, similar to the old fashioned barber shop signs, ran the length of the barrier and reminded Nica of the candy canes her mother used to buy her and Barb every Christmas. She'd say they were for decorating the tree, but both Nica and Barb knew she'd bought an extra box, fully expecting the first box to be devoured in no time at all.

"You can have one, but no more." Sarah would say. "They're for the tree"

But one would turn into two, then another the day after that, then before anybody knew it, they'd be gone.

Nica smiled as she closed her eyes and tried to stay in her happy memory for just a millisecond longer, but it was not to be. Stanton pulled the squad car into a parking space nose first and cut the engine. All there was now was silence. Eerie, uncomfortable silence filled not just the car, but the entire garage as they both sat there, not knowing what exactly to say. Without saying a word Stanton released his seat belt and swung open his door, climbing out and slamming it behind him. Nica's eyes followed his torso as he walked down the side of the car and towards the rear, the 'click' of the trunk opening making her jump slightly. She could hear him rummaging around in there, pulling and straining as he man handled something from the cavity behind the very seat Nica was sat in. A few seconds later there were a few more clicks and the trunk closed with a bang. Stanton approached Nica's door and yanked it open. Squinting her eyes to adjust to the bright ceiling lights, Nica turned her head and realised just what he had been doing. Nica's wheelchair sat waiting for her, a completely different prison to the one she had been expecting. Just looking at it sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't even her 'main' one, it was more of an emergency one that was kept to one side in case she should ever need it. The cold, bespoke design of the metal frame looked no more comforting than a night on a hard, dirty prison cell mattress. Without saying a word she reached out and grabbed one of the arm rests, pulling the wheelchair into a position in which she could manoeuvre herself into it with a little more ease. Then putting all her weight into her right arm she shuffled her bum round 90 degrees and swung her left arm behind her back, desperately feeling for the opposite arm rest and finding it. She was just about to lift herself in when Stanton suddenly grabbed her by the wrist.

"Not one false move." He snarled, "You got that?" Nica's eyes shot straight up to his face, a chiselled vision of determination and anger. Then slowly, she lowered her gaze to Stanton's other hand and saw that it was resting on his holstered side arm. She looked back up and slowly nodded, tears filling her eyes, her lip trembling.

"Good." He spat back at her.

Nica carefully lifted herself from the back seat of the car. Her arms, so tired, straining under her weight as she awkwardly positioned herself in the seat of her wheelchair. She bent forward and reaching down, grabbed her ankles one by one and placed her feet on the supports available. As she was doing this Stanton closed the rear passenger door and flicked a button on the fob. The garage was bathed in a flicker of orange light as the hazards of the squad car flashed indicating the vehicle was now locked and secure. He placed the keys in his jacket pocket and grabbed the handles at the back of Nica's wheel chair just as she placed her hands on the rubber of the wheels, ready to move away from the car. She jerked in surprise slightly and turned her head as Stanton pushed, the illuminated doorway of the booking desk standing out in the darkness of the garage. They were there within a matter of seconds really, but to Nica it seemed to take a good few minutes, the door never getting any bigger until she looked away, then appearing t have doubled in size the next time she looked. Stanton pushed her up the ramp that ran alongside a couple of steps up and fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a key card that he swiped through a scanner placed next to the glass double doors. The light on the scanner flickered from red to green and the door gave a low buzz. Stanton opened the door and spinning Nica 180 degrees backed slowly through the door and into the lobby of the booking office, the light once again making Nica blink as her lights adjusted to the brightness. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the ultraviolet lighting, taking in her immediate surroundings. A coffee machine, a handful of plastic chairs, the odd magazine scattered across a small and heavily damaged wooden table and a huge wooden desk with an elderly gentleman sat behind it, peering over the top of his glasses at a crossword puzzle, the light from the computer monitor exposing every wrinkle. Nica looked at the man, pulling her hand down from her face, now able to focus on him. His thick white moustache was something to behold, and his head although thinning on top had a wonderful coat of even whiter hair sprouting from every follicle. Nica estimated he had to be the wrong side of 70, but his physique, although more than a little round, impressive for a man of his age. He reminded her of a department store Santa Claus. She figured his vision must be as bad as his hearing though as despite all the buzzing through doors and the sight of a police officer pushing a woman in a wheelchair, he still hadn't turned around to acknowledge their presence. Stanton stopped pushing and walked past Nica towards the desk. He was just about to ring the bell to wake the old timer up when a voice boomed out.

"I ain't deaf y'know!" The old man said, not looking up from his crossword. "Not blind either." His accent had a hint of deep south to it.

"Dammit Alf, would it kill you to look just a little professional?" Stanton retorted, leaning on the desk with his elbows.

"I done professional already. Been doing professional since before your momma was wiping your ass boy." Alf spun around, setting his crossword down on the desk and lowering his glasses, which hung precariously from some cheap string around his neck. It was a cheap fix, but it did the job. He caught sight of Nica and stood up, his rotund belly hanging over his belt as though he could give birth any time soon. Moving slowly behind the desk he addressed Nica, who sat with a vacant stare as she took in her new surroundings. "Well hello there missy. What's he picked you up for? You got a tail light out on that thing?" He cracked a smile and gave a little chuckle as Nica narrowed her eyes. She couldn't tell if he was trying to help her relax, or if he was to be yet another thorn in her side.

"I'm sorry?" Nica softly whispered, tears welling up.

"Oh, hey now, there ain't no need for any of that." He reached down below the desk and pulled out a tissue, leaning over and handing it to Nica. "Dammit Stanton, what the hell you been doing?"

"She's the one from the house up on Golden Oak Road." Stanton muttered, leafing through some paperwork.

"What?" He seemed taken aback. "This isn't... You mean this sweet little thing? Well I never."

"Just book her in Alf, it's been a hell of a night."

"Okay, just give me a minute to get old sparky here fired up." Alf placed one hand on the desk at the side of the keyboard and used his other hand to move the mouse. He lifted his head back, trying to view the monitor through the glasses perched on the end of his nose. "Right then. Let's start with a name shall we honey?"

"Nica." She responded, her head still spinning from the events of the night.

"You got a surname miss? It is miss isn't it?" Alf asked.

"Yes, Miss Nica Pirce" Her voice cracking as she softly spoke.

"And your address is?"

"5867 Golden Oak Road" Nica answered, Alf typing slowly, one finger at a time. Something that would normally drive her mad.

"Date of birth Nica?"

"November 10th 1988" nica replied.

"Right then." He turned to Stanton. "What's the charges with this one?"

"Murder. First degree." Stanton uttered over his shoulder.

"Ya know, sometimes I wish I never asked. Nothing else?"

"Four counts. Maybe five, we're awaiting a toxicology report from the coroner!" Stanton looked over.

"Well I'll be. Takes all sorts" He mumbled as he finished typing.

Alf took his glasses off and set them down on the desk, between his coffee cup and an overused ashtray, cigarette butts hanging out of the tower of ash at every angle. He moved from behind the desk and approached Nica.

"Okay Miss Pierce, am I okay to call you Nica?" She nodded, dropping her head to stare at her lap. "Okay Nica, this never goes down well, especially not with the young pretty ones like yourself, but I just need to give you a little pat down, make sure that you're not concealing anything about your person that could be damaging to either yourself or us. Is that alright with you?"

"Is that entirely necessary?" She asked, jerking her head up to stare Alf in the eye.

"Afraid so miss." He answered.

"But look at me, do I seriously look like I'm capable of concealing anything?" She asked, her voice straining in disbelief.

"Well, to be honest no. But rules are rules, and there's that damned ADA, which means we have to follow protocol I'm afraid."

"I don't understand. What are you on about?" Nica was confused.

"The Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 Miss. Rules say that we're to treat every inmate as evenly as the next, which means no discrimination or preferential treatment no matter how able bodied you are." He tilted his head to the side and gave an awkward smile. "Nothing too serious. But rules are rules. Hell, Jesus Christ could walk right on in here. I'd still have to strip search the son of a bitch and take his prints."

"Fine... Whatever..." Nica shook her head and waved her hand in a show of surrender.

"Arms out to the side miss and just keep them there until I say otherwise yeah?"

Nica held her arms out as Alf gently ran his hands over her back and down the side of her ribs. He knelt down in front of her and ran his hands quickly down the outside of her thighs.

"I'm guessing there ain't no feeling down here honey. Would i be right in making that assumption?"

Nica nodded.

"Reason i say that is because somebody seems to have taken a huge chunk out of your leg." Alf peeled back the bandage that had been carefully placed over Nica's left shin, his eyes widened in disbelief. "Holy hell. Hey Stanton you seen this?" He shouted over to Stanton.

"What's that?"

"Miss Pirce here looks to have been in the wars alright."

"You can say that again."

He covered her leg back up and looked her in the eye, resting his hands on her wrists.

"I think..." He whispered, "The best thing for you Nica would be a trip to the infirmary before we get you out of these bloody clothes and into your new accommodation. What you say to that?" He gently patted her hand and gave her a smile. Nica felt a lot more comfortable around Alf than she did officer Stanton, that was for sure. He gave off a warm fuzzy feeling which made Nica assume somebody out there had the sweetest grandpa ever. She smiled and nodded. Just then Stanton's cell phone rang and they both turned and looked. Stanton picked up his phone and looked puzzled. He answered the call and seemed at a loss as to who was on the other end.

"Hello?" He queried. "Yeah this is Stanton. I'm sorry. No, hang on." He covered the mouth piece and looked at Alf.

"You're okay. You take your damned call while I clean Miss Pierce up a little. We don't need you bringing the atmosphere down again." Sarcasm dripping from every word that left Alf's lips.

Stanton put the phone back to his ear and rushed out the door back into the underground parking lot.

"Yeah, this is Stanton, who did you say you were again? Okay, and what can I do for you Miss...?" He carried on his conversation as he pushed through the double doors and into the darkness.

Nica turned back to Alf, a hopeful look of optimism across her face. In true old man style, Alf had pulled out a huge key ring that must've held a key for every cell, washroom and storage area in the building.

"Come along Nica." He pointed a finger to his round, wrinkly face. "This happens to be the face of the damned finest first aider the police force ever clapped eyes on." He smiled a huge grin and stroked his moustache. "You okay to follow or you want a hand little lady?" He asked. Nica nodded.

"I should be fine, thank you."

She followed Alf for a couple of minutes, the brilliant white walls of the corridor contrasting the dark blue doors of each room they passed. Some were marked 'Interrogation Room', 'Staff Only' and among others 'Restroom' and 'Cells' and an arrow pointing down the stairs beyond. In no time at all they reached the infirmary and Alf pulled out his huge cluster of keys.

"We think this is it?" He said, sliding the key into the narrow lock and giving it a sharp sudden twist clockwise. The locks of the door jolted into life and Alf held the door open as he stepped inside, turning on the lights. Nica wheeled herself into the infirmary, amazed at how clean everything was.

Alf began to prepare various bandages, gauzes and needles while Nica looked around.

"Just gonna clean this up for you that okay Miss?" He asked.

"Please, call me Nica." She asked, a forlorn look spreading across her face. "It makes me feel a lot better. It's a little less official." Alf smiled and knelt down, peeling back the bandage and throwing it in a medical waste basket.

"Sure thing Nica." He beamed. "Looks like this may need a bit more attention than I can give it. I've never seen a gash as deep as this before, and I'm pretty sure the bone is damaged. What the hell'd you do?"

"Somebody came at me with a hatchet."

"Well god damn." He replied, cleaning the wound before giving her an injection. "This is just a tetanus. Nothing to be alarmed about, but just in case." He turned and pulled out a tiny vial from a drawer in the medicine cabinet. "While we're at it, I'd just like to take a small swab from inside that pretty mouth of yours. Standard DNA thing, nothing to worry about. Just helps us keep track of people that are accustomed to getting into trouble. We'll do the finger prints tomorrow. You look exhausted and I figure that can wait."

Alf pulled the cotton bud from the vial and ran it around the inside of Nica's lip. He placed it back in the container and placed a sticker on it.

"There ya go. Nothing to it huh?" He joked.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Even after what you've heard about me you're being so nice." Nica quizzed him.

"Way I see it Nica, the second you come through my door, you're as innocent as the day god made you. It ain't my job to judge anybody, that's what the judge and jury's for. I figure I got another year or two left in me getting by on this cushy little number before I finally retire and give my wife the road trip she's been crying out about all these years."

"Thank you." Nica reached out and grabbed Alf's hand. "I mean it."

"Don't get me wrong. You give me trouble then you'll wish you hadn't. But you behave, do as your told, then me and you'll get along just fine while you're here." Alf said, his tone dropping, a little harsher.

"But I shouldn't be here." Nica exhaled.

"Oh yeah? Where the hell you expect to be? In a motel down on fifth drinking bourbon and watching American Idol?" He laughed. "Your fault or not, people are dead. We need answers. Plus if you're as innocent as you say then forensics'll pick up on it. That's their job after all. Just let them get all the evidence down here and go through it. That's all you can do."

"Yeah, I guess..." Nica stopped. "Evidence?"

"Yeah, there's always evidence. And it needs looking at." Alf answered.

"Here? In this building?" She asked, panicking.

"Hell yeah. Just upstairs, we got a big room, full of stuff." Alf calmly replied.

"No... NO! DON'T YOU SEE? HE'LL BE HERE! HE'LL COME FOR ME!" Nica began getting louder and louder. Alf stepped back, shocked by her sudden explosion.

"Just hang on a minute. Nobody's gonna get to you..."

But Nica wasn't listening she spun in her wheelchair and sprinted as fast as she could for the door. Alf started after her but slipped. Out in the corridor Nica made a dash for the exit, she'd just about made it when Stanton appeared and blocked her way out. She screamed and screamed as Stanton grabbed her, arms everywhere as Nica yelled at him to let go. Alf came running down the corridor and as Nica was struggling, screaming and thrashing she felt a prick in the small of her back.

Everything began to get dark...

Why wouldn't they listen?

Didn't they know?

Chucky was coming...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV - The Nightmare Continues**

Darkness...

So dark...

And cold...

Her head felt like it had been turned all the way round, the soreness emanating from her shoulders and working up the base of her neck and into her brain. She opened her eyes, the light proving too much and shutting them immediately. She tried again and again, a little more each time. That was when she noticed something was wrong. The light wasn't your usual fluorescent tubing blaring in from the unforgiving concrete walls of the prison cells, this was far more sinister. Flashing red and accompanied by a low intermittent buzz, Nica had no doubt in her mind that this light served a purpose, and not one that she cared to investigate further, but without thinking she sat up, her hair cascading down her shoulder, pushing herself upright, feeling her arms burn under the pressure. She closed her eyes, her head groggy, probably from whatever the bastards injected her with. She placed her hand on her opposite shoulder and slowly rubbed, hoping to massage away some of the aches and pains, but it was no good, every muscle in her body was screaming out in agony. She looked around the cell, her wheelchair had considerately been placed at the opposite side and besides the dirty toilet, the floor was the only other luxury she had. Her bed was also on the dirty side, the sheets stained yellow with nicotine and whatever else the last occupant had decided his body didn't need to keep in. She grimaced in disgust at the thought of sleeping on the filthy, hard mattress, allowing germ after germ to enter her already battered body. Shaking her head she opened her eyes wide, a shock tactic to get them used to the unusual light washing in from the corridor. Slowly, she placed a hand on each ankle and unfolded her legs from beneath, letting them flop over the side of the bed. Her headache wasn't getting any better, the light and the low buzzing noise drilling into her head, through her temples, making her brain pound and in turn making her feel nauseous. Opening her eyes and focusing on the bars of the cell, she decided to try and get the attention of whoever was out there. She wasn't particularly bothered who, just anybody. This situation was making her uneasy. She had to laugh to herself at that one. As if she'd be just fine if not for the light and the noise. Yeah right.

"Hello?" She spoke, her voice raspy, making her head pound in agony again.

Nothing.

Nobody answered and nobody seemed to be coming. She leaned forward, her head in her hands, her hair hanging over her face, providing a brief respite from the bright, red, emergency laden light flashing away in the background. She took a deep breath and looked up, straining her eyes.

"HELLOOOO?" She yelled. Her eyes flashing with pain, as the vibrations from her voice echoed up into her brain yet again, making her feel sick.

Still nothing. She turned her head slowly, fighting back tears. Her wheelchair sat with its back to her. Almost mocking her. 'You need me' it seemed to be saying, taunting, teasing. With no other option, Nica put out her arms and let herself go, flopping forward onto the cold uneven concrete of the prison cell. Her arms barely had the strength to stop her face from impacting on the ground with an ungodly crunch. As she landed, the fire from her shoulders seemed to tear down her arms, all the way into the tips of her fingers.

"Aaarghhh. Jesus!" She moaned, throwing her head up and making a mental note of which direction to go. Reaching out, Nica pulled herself, slowly at first, along the hard abrasive floor, her finger nails scratching along the surface, splintering and cracking with every movement. Her bloody nightgown began to rip and tear at the seams as she crawled along grazing her stomach unevenly, dragging her limp, lifeless legs behind her. Panting, she looked up to see how far she had to go. It seemed she'd been moving, straining every muscle and tendon in her upper body for so long, that when she looked at her progress she felt gutted. She hardly seemed to have moved an inch. She buried her head in her arms and wept. Lifting her head she took another deep breath and focused on her wheelchair. A determined look spread across her face and she grunted as she again pulled herself forward, her eyes never leaving their target. Slowly but surely she made progress, the pain from her fingers giving way to a feeling of euphoria as she closed in, finally, on the metal frame. She glanced at the floor, dirt flying up as she exhaled violently, her face engulfed in a cloud of dust, filling her mouth as she sucked the acrid mixture into her lungs, her eyes stinging and scratching as she blinked frantically. When the haze eventually lifted, she noticed something. A long trail of blood had appeared underneath her, which on closer inspection had come from the shredded ends of her fingers, her nails splintered and partially torn off, blood oozing out and making a tacky surface for the dust and dirt to cling to. She finally reached her wheelchair and pushed herself up, her hands made into fists to protect the already damaged digits, that resembled nothing but bloody stumps. Sitting catching her breath, she noticed the noise had gone. There was no longer an ominous low buzz every few seconds, only the occasional flash of the red emergency light remained. Bathing her cell in a cloak of blood red. Getting her breath took time, she was exhausted, still suffering the effects of whatever had been pumped into her body the night before. She looked at her hands and winced at the bloody ends of her fingers, mangled beyond recognition, but strangely she felt no pain from them. She looked up, putting her hands back down and glared out of the cell.

"HELLOOOO? ANYBODY!" She cried. But still no response came. 'Surely somebody should be here.' She thought to herself. With her last bit of strength and one Herculean effort she reached up, grabbed the cushioned arms of her wheel chair and slowly, painfully dragged herself up into the seat. She was tired, so tired. But the hard work was done. She rolled her head around her shoulders trying to get rid of the stiffness and unrelenting pain that she'd endured since her awakening. Gently lowering her hands to the wheels of her chair, she slowly, softly, pushed forward. The chair rolled but Nica's hands recoiled in agony, her fingers now letting her know how tirelessly they'd worked just moments earlier. She tried again, the pain never easing, but gritting her teeth and smashing through the pain barrier, she finally reached the cell door and put her hands on the bars. So cold and unforgiving, the view from the cell door offered no better explanation for her current predicament. The light still flashing somewhere down the corridor, illuminating every door and every crack in the rough, uninviting walls. Nica was sure it was because she was still fighting the sleep and drugs, but there seemed to be a touch of mist as she gazed down towards the origins of the mysterious flashing light. There was only one direction in which to look, as they appeared to have given Nica the cell right at the end of the corridor. Placing her hand on the bars of her cell Nica instantly pulled back. They were ice cold, impossible to touch without pain exploding through her hands and sending a shiver to her very core. Swinging her head around, left, then right, Nica found there truly was nothing else in her tiny little cell, that had just minutes ago, seemed ten times this size. She happened to look down at her nightgown, torn to shreds, another victim of her monumental effort across the bare concrete. She found a piece hanging off and grasped it between the pulps of her fingers and thumbs, yanking at it, grunting loudly as she tore even further, exposing her bruised and scratched thighs, until finally she had a piece she could use. Wrapping it around her hand she reached out for the cell door yet again, this time managing to hold on. To her surprise the door rocked loose.

"What?" She asked herself, a look of confusion across her face.

She pulled it towards her and amazingly the door moved freely, no locks, no latches, nothing.

"This isn't right." She muttered. Turning her head to look back at her cell. A rat sat on the hard, solid bed amongst the stains and torn bedding, perched on it's hind legs and nibbling on something.

"And where did you come from?" She asked, narrowing her eyes to see what it was devouring. She spun her wheelchair and slowly pushed herself back towards the bed. As she got closer the rat stopped eating and stuck it's nose into the air, as if trying to get her scent. She got closer still, the rat, freaking out, dropped its meal and shot off the bed, scurrying to the corner of the room and back through the tiniest of holes. Nica's eyes had followed the rat as it squeezed through the hole and back between the walls of the cells. Shaking her head she turned her attention back to what the rat had been eating. Whatever it was had been dropped somewhere in the crusty, rolled up sheets of Nica's bed. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she plunged her hand into the stains and cigarette burns, not stopping until she came across something round and solid. She withdrew her hand and slowly opened her eyes as she unclenched her fist from around the spherical object. She let out a bloody scream and immediately dropped it. It was an eye... A human eye... Just like Barb's... Suddenly a shadow floated across the cell wall, from right to left, black and brooding against the blood red of the light. Nica spun quickly in her chair, an attempt to catch a glimpse of whoever it was. She heard no footsteps, but the whispered hiss of its voice made every hair on her beautiful, slender body stand up and pray.

"Nicaaaaa..." Its voice drifting away into the the night.

The figure had disappeared as quickly as it arrived, Nica only able to make out the long dark hair and tweed overcoat. She cautiously approached her cell door, not knowing who or what to expect next. She reached for the door again and pulled, slowly, quietly, taking time to wheel herself backwards as the door opened right in front of her. She let go as she rolled backwards, the door swinging fully open before gently coming to a rest, a slight creak coming from the straining hinges.

As she moved forward, Nica stuck her head out of her cell, looking desperately down the corridor for any sign of life. She could just make out the silhouette of a desk, far in the distance, the mist that had first appeared just moments ago getting thicker and heavier. Wheeling herself forwards she peered into the other cells. The one next door, then the next, then after that, and so it went on, every one empty. Freshly made beds, covered in beautiful crisp white sheets, plump pillows, mattresses, filled to bursting with feathers, that looked like they'd swallow the next lucky occupant whole. It was only as she neared the end of the narrowing corridor that she noticed a figure sat at the desk. His back to her, the computer screen flickering static wildly in his face. It was only as she got closer and saw the string around the back of his head, valiantly holding on a pair of glasses, that she realised it was Alf.

"Alf? Alf?" She spoke, but he didn't move. 'Probably buried in another crossword puzzle' she assumed. She moved closer and reached out for his shoulder, hoping not to make him jump.

"You know, those things take up way too much of your time..."

As Nica grabbed his shoulder, his chair spun suddenly around, Alf's head flopping back to reveal a huge gash from ear to ear. His glasses dropped off his nose and dangled across his neck, magnifying the deep wound in all its gory detail. Nica started to yell, but immediately pulled her hands up across her mouth in an attempt to remain silent. Tears streaming down her cheeks she started to tremble uncontrollably. In the corner of her eye she saw something unusual. She turned her head and a door was slowly opening, strong white light shining out and spilling into the corridor. She looked back at Alf, his arms flopping down either side of his body, his eyes still open, staring into the top corner of the corridor, a vacant expression across his once friendly and cheerful face. Nica put a hand on each wheel and fed the wheels forward, slowly and carefully moving towards the door. As she reached it she noticed the sign at the side of the door frame. A blue sign, with white writing, a splash of blood, probably Alf's, sprayed across it.

"Evidence...?" Nica read the sign out loud and looked back into the blinding white light. It seemed to be beckoning to her, and before she knew it she was moving towards it. Not that she wanted to. Her hands were operating all on their own, slowly pushing her into the door frame and allowing her to be enveloped by the light. She narrowed her eyes again, trying not to blink but failing drastically, putting her hand up against her eyes to shield them from the light so bright. She just began to get used to it, still blinking when she heard a voice again.

"Nica..." Heavier this time, raspier.

She looked around but struggled to see anything at all, the light was so strong.

"Nica..." There it was again, thicker, with body to it, evil and threatening.

She turned again, and as she turned to stare dead ahead it dropped straight into the view, inches from her face. The red hair and crude stitches, the piercing evil eyes of a lost soul, the look of pure insanity, the broad, violent grin across its face and the knife it was about to run across her throat...

"NICA!"

She woke suddenly with a gasp, flinging her hands to her neck as she sat bolt upright in the bed of her cell. Alf sat aside her on an old stool with a genuinely worried look across his wrinkled old face.

"Nica..." Alf yelled, putting his arms out to catch her as she spun, almost falling off the bed. As she panted, drawing deeper and deeper breaths, she began to cry hysterically, Alf pulling her into him and smothering her face with his broad shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her side to side. He stroked her hair as she carried on, weeping uncontrollably.

"It's okay sweetheart." He tried to comfort her, "It's okay. Old Alf's here. Ain't nobody gonna get close to you. Okay?"

She cried for a while, the nightmare sinking in then as she calmed down she leaned back. Alf relinquished his grasp and looked her over.

"You okay now?" He asked. Nica nodded, grateful for the concern he was showing. "You didn't half have me worried then. Been out like a light for the last 15 hours dammit. Got me thinking maybe I gave you too much if that there tranquilizer."

"Tranquilizer?" She queried.

"Hell yeah. You don't remember? Damn well started freaking out about somebody coming down here for ya." He stroked his moustache. "I tried tellin' ya, ain't nobody I ever met dumb enough to break 'into' a place like this. Now breakin' out... That's a different story, seen that a lot durin' my time." He cracked a smile and Nica gave him a nervous smile of her own.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to..." She started, but Alf stopped her flat.

"Ain't nothing for you to be sorry for. What I gather you been through a hell of a lot the other night, that's bound to make some people do some crazy shit."

"Maybe so, but I don't know what came over me."

"Panic i guess. That and the strength of about a hundred men. You can damn well move in that thing when you have to huh?" He nodded towards her wheelchair, sat patiently at the side of her bed. She looked too and gave a little laugh. Then she noticed something.

"The sheets. They're clean?!" She was surprised.

"Course they are. We might not be no five star, Hawaiian cruise but we sure do know how to keep a bed clean." He chuckled to himself as he said it. "You alright now?" Nica nodded.

"Just a little shook up."

"I getcha. Bad dream huh?"

"Something like that."

"Well here, old Alf gone made it his mission to look after you." He handed her a cup of coffee. The steam escaping the cup, the aroma entering her nostrils. "Made you a slice of toast too." He motioned to the bedside table.

"Thank you. Seriously though, I couldn't eat a thing."

"I see. Makes sense. In your own time I guess." He placed the palms of his hands on his knees and stood up, his belly standing proud, once again hanging over his belt. "Kinda feel bad about putting you under, but it was the only thing we could do." She closed her eyes and nodded, a forgiving smile crossed her lips.

"I know."

"Something about that damned evidence room certainly got you spooked though." Then it hit Nica. The evidence room. Chucky. Her eyes shot to Alf.

"Is all the evidence here? Is it all there I mean? Nothing's gone missing?!" She asked quickly.

"Well that's not really my department. Haven't heard anybody say otherwise though, so yeah I guess everything's accounted for. Why? Something on your mind?" Alf tucked his thumbs behind his belt and pulled it up a touch, examining Nica for a reaction.

"No there was just this thing... I didn't do any of this. But..." She paused. "I can't tell you. You'll think I'm crazy, and so far you're the only person that's been anywhere near nice to me. They all think I'm a killer."

"Well seems to me Nica you got something eating away at you."

"Alf I don't want to ask too much, but the evidence. There was this doll..." Alf immediately cut her off.

"Hell yeah, I saw that thing. All ginger hair and a creepy face. I swear my youngest used to have one just like it, years ago, mind you it was in a hell of a lot better condition than the one they brought in from your place. Can't remember it's name. Used to talk and talk, ended up taking the batteries out in the end. Used to scare the hell out of me it did. Course she used to leave it lying around all over the place. What about it?" Nica paused, unsure what to say next.

"Nothing" She whispered, bringing her coffee to her lips and breathing in the roasted aroma of the coffee beans.

"Well listen. Now you're up and all, they're wanting to have a word with you down the hall. So take a few minutes, I'll give your lawyer a call and he can be getting himself down here. Meanwhile, you just get your shit together and I'll come get ya soon yeah?"

Alf gave Nica a smile and turned on his heels, locking the cell door behind him. As Nica sat cradling her coffee she tried to shake off the dream. She'd never had a scare like that. Not even the other night, as he came at her in the lift, slashing at her hands with the knife. Whether it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins or not, Nica felt every bit as helpless now, no matter how many people she had around her. Her thoughts turned to her mother. How long had she carried this secret around with her? Was this why she had been so protective? She felt so bad about not having the chance to comfort her mother through this as she'd gotten older, watching her sink more and more into whichever bottle of wine was laying around. Refusing to leave the house unless it was an emergency. Did Barb know? Maybe if she was old enough. But no, if she did then surely she'd have recognised Chucky from the home movie. His long hair and sun glasses, that loud shirt letting him sneak in completely under the radar. Nothing about him screamed killer, or psychopath, definitely not the other things he was capable of. The way he blamed Nica for him ending up the way he had. Lots of people might think talking to him would do the trick, explaining how he was wrong, but Nica had studied cases like this for her thesis. He was beyond help, he was dangerous, in ways people thought unbelievable, and he would never listen, not to anybody. She'd also caught his attention when she mentioned 'completion anxiety'. The way she pointed out his failings to finally finish off Andy Barclay had really touched a nerve. His face had become twisted with rage. The way he had been around Alice... Jesus Alice. Why had nobody told her anything about Alice. The thought of her being just another body, laying there on the floor in that cold house, such a cruel and tragic end to a young and promising life.

"Alf!?" She shouted. Within seconds she heard the pounding of footsteps on the floor as Alf jogged up the corridor. He finally reached the cell, his face a healthy red.

"Whoooo. Now it's been a while since I did that." He remarked. "What is it Nica?"

"I have to know. My neice, Alice, she was in the house. I know this sounds crazy, but I need to know if she's okay."

"Sure, I can look into that for you. Let me have a word and I'll get straight back to you."

With that Alf turned and slowly made his way back to his desk. She could hear him as he made his way up the steel steps to the booking office, then she could hear the faint sound of voices. Nothing too clear though, and definitely not anything that could be made any sense out of. Nica started wondering. She had been searching the net since finding the doll had come from an evidence depository, and stumbled upon some interesting sites. The Barclay family, late 80s, around the time Nica was born, the PlayPals factory episode from a couple of years later, which again involved the young Andy Barclay. By the looks of it the company took a long time before the negative publicity died down and they barely recovered by the time they were in the news again eight years later. First the CEO murdered, then in the ensuing weeks, Andy Barclay again at the centre of a police investigation concerning a mysterious doll and numerous unexplained deaths. Amazingly enough, NIagra Falls, Charles Lee Ray's finger prints actually found at a murder scene. The unthinkable actually sparked some action as his body was exhumed, presumably just to make sure it was actually the correct man they buried. Then years later, a film all about this urban legend was cursed, people involved with the production and various crew members dying in freak accidents.

That was as far as she'd gotten though before the power went out. But before it quickly frizzled out, leaving the entire house in darkness, she'd brought up an image of the infamous Charles Lee Ray and found none other than the unknown man from a family home movie staring right back at her. Sending a shiver down her spine and flooding her heart with fear. Just as she was in deep thought Alf appeared at the bars of her cell, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Alf? Did you manage to find anything out?" She asked.

"Young Alice is perfectly fine. According to the boys on the scene she was found upstairs, locked in a damned closet. Didn't know anything about what was going on around her the whole time." Alf answered.

"Thank god." Nica cried as she looked skywards, smiling. This was the best news she'd had in the last few days. But she noticed something about Alf's stare. He looked distressed about something. "Alf? What's wrong?"

"Well according to the forensics team looking through all this here evidence there's something a little bit off." He looked down, shaking his head.

"Off?" Nica enquired.

"Yeah. Stanton called up to them last thing before he clocked off. Said you'd mentioned something about a camera on that there doll. Something about it broadcasting? To a computer? Think you kids call them laptops now? Is this right?"

"Yes! Thank god. I knew he'd tell them. What about it?" She asked urgently.

"Well according to forensics, everything was itemised and numbered, you know, standard crime scene stuff."

"Yes?" Nica's voice dropped. She could tell something was coming, and it wasn't good.

"Well thing is. They locked it all in that there evidence room last night." Alf mumbled.

"And? Wait. No..." Nica sunk her head into her chest. She could tell what was coming next.

"Well, this morning they searched that doll. They didn't find no camera."

"I'm not surprised. He would've gotten rid of it straight away." Nica felt all the optimism draining from her body.

"Well that's not the weird thing. Ya see..." Nica lifted her head and looked at Alf. "All three laptops were perfectly fine when they went in there. Now, every one of em's been smashed up. Completely. According to the lab techs, there's nothing they can do."

Nica once again buried her head in her hands and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V - Nica's Story**

The coffee stains had by now become imprinted on her eyes as she blinked, suddenly, snapping out of her trance. She had subconsciously started trying to scratch them off with her finger nail, no idea why, she was away with her memories as she sat patiently waiting. Glancing at the clock one more time she started to drum her fingers on the steel table top as she looked around the room, the gun metal grey walls offering little comfort to her. Various voices were heard from the room above, muffled as they meandered their way through the wooden floorboards and down towards her, the Styrofoam false ceiling of the interrogation room spewing out meaningless noise. She wheeled herself backwards and looked at herself in the mirror on the wall.

"Hello?" She looked at herself in the mirror, waving her hands in huge opposing circles. The way she figured it, there was somebody sat there watching or there wasn't. If there was then they just had a nice little greet from the 'naughty, cold blooded killer' and if there wasn't then what did it matter anyway? It was hard not to notice in her reflection, the day-glow orange overalls they had given her while they collected some of her own clothes from home. Not the best colour, but they did their job. They were a damn site warmer than that nightgown, that's for sure. To think, when she first put that nightgown on, everything was perfect. Her mother had apparently committed suicide and her sister had shown up demanding to sell the house they now equally owned, but apart from that perfect. Nica's thoughts turned to Barb and her mother. With all that had been discovered this last few days, she now understood her mother a little more. Why she was so protective, why she never left the house, maybe this explained her addiction to the home shopping channel that Nica had finally confronted her about. Day after day, parcels from this company, packages from another business. Nica had joked that she was wearing out the rubber on her wheels as she constantly answered the door, time after time, day after day. But the last thing. The last thing that had been delivered was odd, no doubt about it. Neither of them thought anything sinister when Sarah had peeled back the tape and ripped open the box, exposing the cutest little red headed doll Nica had ever seen. Cute, but a little creepy that it had no sender address and had been anonymously posted to her mother. It couldn't have been a mysterious admirer, one that had endlessly watched her from afar, because she didn't go anywhere to be admired. Just stayed around the house, dressing gown, bottle of wine, working on her art. Yellow flowers. Always yellow flowers. She'd always wondered why, but whenever she asked it was always the same old, 'We all have our comforts in life Nica. Just leave it.'

Suddenly the door to the interrogation room flew open, a tall, well built man rushing in. Nica estimated his age to be mid fifties. His dark hair parted down the middle, his well built frame spinning suddenly and slamming the door shut with a loud deafening bang. Nica was stunned.

"Miss Pirce, I believe?" He started shaking off his overcoat, his hand stuck out in a gesture of friendship. Nica was in a daze, not knowing whether to shake his hand or scream for help.

"Yeah... I..." She replied, gently placing her hand in his. He almost jerked her arm out of it's socket as he shook it forcefully.

"We don't have much time Miss Pirce, take it from me, the second they know I'm here they'll be at that door." He hung his coat over the chair sat besides Nica and calmly picked up his briefcase, slamming it down on the table and clicking the two combination locks open.

"Who are you?" Was all Nica could muster, "Are you my lawyer?"

"Indeed I am Miss Pirce. Jeff Marshall's the name. Is it okay for me to call you Nica?" He asked. She nodded, still confused.

"I assumed my mother's lawyer was..." She started.

"Nooooo," He trailed off as he rummaged in his briefcase. "If you didn't give them details you've just got me. I got word that you were ready for a quick chat so wanted to hightail it down here as soon as I could." He stopped and put out his palms to her. "Sorry for the delay by the way. Traffic was murder." He returned to his briefcase and suddenly stopped. "That wasn't meant as a joke." Nica rolled her eyes at him, becoming agitated. "Just so you know... Right, here we are. Four counts of murder, first degree, yada yada yada... That sound right?" His boisterous enthusiasm was charming, but Nica couldn't be bothered for it. She just wanted somebody to make sense of what had turned her life upside down so suddenly, help her get her head in order. But at least she had somebody here fighting her corner and that was a start.

"So what do we do now?" She queried. He turned and looked at her, a blank expression on his face.

"Well..." He sat down beside her, slowly, staring her straight in the eye. "We'll have a little chat, see what's what, I'll see what I can move around and hopefully we can prepare some kind of water tight defence for you. That's usually easier said than done, but just looking at you I can see that'll not be a problem. The last guy I was assigned to for something like this, ripped a guys throat out with his bare hands, stood in the middle of the street, let people video him on their god damned iPhones and then confessed as soon as a news crew showed up. Know what he said when I go in to meet him?" Nica shook her head, was this guy for real? He'd been here one minute and already she was dizzy from the non stop talking. His dry, east coast accent washing over her with every sentence.

"No. I don't. What did he say?"

"That it wasn't him. Can you believe that? Stood there, still holding the guys Adams apple in his damned fist and let every guy and girl within a ten block radius video him. Then his defence was 'It wasn't me your honour'. You didn't do it did you?" Nica looked at him, her mouth dropped open as shock and astonishment spread across her face. "Hey, I gotta ask."

"No. I didn't. That good enough?" She threw back at him.

"Good enough for me, Nica."

Suddenly the door burst open again, causing both Nica and Jeff to jolt in surprise. The man standing in the doorway was huge. Nica thought Jeff was on the big side, but this guys was huge. Not fat, very lean, but she figured he stood at around 6' 4", his broad shoulders bearing the stripes of authority. His wide brimmed hat sat low, casting a shadow over all but his grizzly unshaven chin. Nica's reflection beaming back at her from the mirrored sun glasses firmly attached to the bridge of his misshapen nose. The cigarette dangling from his lip lent him an air of Clint Eastwood, while the size of his arms made Nica compare him with Arnold Schwarzenegger. He took a huge stride into the room, hands on his belt, and turned to close the door, letting another officer sheepishly follow on behind. The accompanying officer clutched a notepad in his wiry arms, pens sticking out from his shirt pocket, buried in the shadow of the man mountain Nica was faced with now. They both sat down without saying a word. The second officer placing his notepad on the table and taking a pen from his pocket, clicking the top and getting to work writing. As he did this, the first officer removed his hat, placing it on the table, revealing a greying buzz cut, as close to the bone as anything Nica had ever seen. He removed his glasses and folded them shut, placing them in his discarded hat and folding his arms as he sat back, looking at Nica.

"Well, Jeff. How'd you get dragged into this one?" He addressed Nica's lawyer.

"Hey you know me Sheriff. I just follow the orders." Jeff smiled. "Are you ready to charge my client? I'm assuming that's what you're fixing to do. What with the dramatic entrance and all. Hoping you've got something that sticks this time though. Pretty embarrassing when you just end up wasting time and money."

"Well let's see. Last time I looked we had quite a few questions to ask. So let's begin. Nica, my name's Sheriff Daniel Monroe, this is deputy Wayne Anderson. We're just gonna ask you a few questions, try and get to the bottom of what happened up at your place the other night. That okay with you?" Nica nodded, turning to look at Jeff briefly.

"What happened exactly?" He asked. "You keep protesting your innocence to my men, but we're finding nothing. No signs of a break in, apart from what our boys did to get in. No signs of anybody else, at all, on the property. So why don't you talk us through it. From the beginning."

Nica took a deep breath. She'd been waiting for this ever since she first arrived here and now she finally had a chance. She had a voice and it was time to be heard. It sounded crazy, she wasn't fooling herself with that, but what else could she do. She couldn't tell them somebody else was there because they weren't. Not anybody normal anyhow. She looked Sheriff Monroe in the face and relayed the tale of Chucky to him in full detail. She explained how her mother had received a package just the day before she died, no return address, nothing. Inside had been a red headed doll. It spoke and said its name was Chucky. Nica remembered her mother pulling a face at the name before immediately throwing it in the trash. She'd not thought anything else of it, maybe somebody had won a competition and put her mother's details in for some reason. There could be a multitude of explanations for it. Then the tragedy as Nica had woken in the night and, upon making her way down stairs, found the body of her mother. Stabbed in the stomach with a pair of scissors. Nica explained how she phoned for an ambulance and it arrived within minutes, her mother pronounced dead at the scene. Suicide it was ruled as. Nica phoned around, the first person she called being her sister Barb. She agreed to come straight out with her husband Ian and their daughter Alice, but also brought Alice's nanny with them too, which Nica admitted was a little odd. Barb arrived with Father Frank following on behind and they all had chilli for dinner. Nica remembered Father Frank leaving rather abruptly, but at the time she just put it down to him being busy with other duties. He'd already been out at the house for quite a while. Everything was going pretty well, they sat and watched an old movie while Alice went up to bed, but Alice couldn't settle as Chucky had vanished, so everybody was looking for him. Nica suddenly remembered the video they were watching. There was a man. Long hair, loud shirt, dark glasses, nobody knew who he was. A little later Chucky put in an appearance so she took him up to Alice and said her goodnights. That's when her curiosity got the better of her and she phoned the US-X company to find out where the doll had been sent for, as it had started giving her the creeps. She was struggling to get a signal on her cell phone so the line wasn't great, but the voice on the other end said the doll had come from an 'Evidence Depository'. This had only made Nica more curious and she'd decided to do a Google search for 'Chucky Evidence' and was astounded when site after site spoke of this doll showing up at various murder scenes. Chicago in 1988, a carnival ten years later, Niagra Falls not long after that, then the final rumours centred around a Los Angeles hospital around 2004. She found out it was an urban legend surrounding a notorious serial killer called Charles Lee Ray, known only to the police as the Lakeshore Strangler, somehow managing to pass his very soul into a child's doll. Digging deeper, she explained how she had again done a Google search, but this time for Charles Lee Ray, and how the photo that came up was of the man from the video. But that was just as the power went out. She started freaking out, Barb had appeared on the upstairs landing and they'd had a little tiff about the doll. Barb went into the attic looking for Alice and Nica tried to get up to her to warn her, but the lift was out so Nica had to pull herself up the stairs, one by one. By the time she got there, Barb had come flying down the stairs, missing an eye. Nica had freaked out and then even more when Chucky appeared, walking... talking... armed with a knife.

"Woah, woah, woah..." Monroe unfolded one of his giant forearms and held his hand up, the palm motioning for Nica to stop. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Please." Nica begged, "Let me finish. I know this sounds absurd, but please just let me finish. Then you can have your say!"

Monroe sat back again and retracted his arm, crossing it back across the Sheriff's badge that adorned his tan shirt. Nica continued, at an even faster pace, her volume rising, hands flailing in the air.

She had managed to get her spare wheelchair and find Ian to warn him, but he went looking for Alice, unable to find her. When he came back they made their way downstairs to the garage, but Chucky came after them, attempting to choke Nica with fumes from the car. Ian came back asking Nica where Alice was, but she suffered an attack and passed out. When she came to Ian had administered her injection and they tried to find Chucky using the web cam. But then Chucky appeared and overpowered Ian before hacking half his face off with an axe. Then he came for Nica but she managed to knock his head off after his axe became stuck in her shin. While she was trying to see to her leg Chucky had put his head back on and pushed her off the upstairs landing. It was then that he revealed everything... He had been in love with her mother, a long time ago, back when he was still Charles Lee Ray, but when Sarah rejected him and alerted the police to his location he became enraged, stabbing her in the stomach, severely wounding Nica in the womb. He came at her again, she grabbed the knife and fought him off, that's when officer Stanton appeared.

"Nica..." Monroe turned his head to look at deputy Anderson and a sly smile lingered on his lips as he again turned back to Nica. "Are you trying to tell me the doll killed all these people?" He laughed a little as he said it.

"I know it sounds crazy but..."

"Hell yeah! It does!" He laughed again. "How about we try again. Maybe with the truth this time huh?" Suddenly Nica's lawyer sat forward.

"My client has given you her version of events Sheriff. So please disperse with the bullying tactics." Calmly placing his pen on the table top.

"And we're expected to 'believe' that? Listen, I want answers! People died up there and as long as it's in my town it's up to me to find out the truth." He raised his fist and brought it slamming down, crashing into the surface of the table, the noise reverberating around the room.

"It's okay." Nica looked at Jeff. "I didn't expect him to believe me." She shook her head and folded her arms. "Check with Chicago Police Department. Sarah Pirce, November 1988, Charles Lee Ray, kidnapped her, then stabbed her, while she was pregnant with ME! He's the reason she's been living like a fucking hermit!"

"Oh we'll check Nica. But right now we've got enough evidence here to draw our own conclusions. Professional, logical, RATIONAL evidence." Arm in the air, fist clenched, index finger extended and pointing downwards as he jabbed the table. He was starting to get mad.

"Like what?" Jeff asked.

"Finger prints." The Sheriff nodded as his eyes skimmed quickly from Nica to Jeff, then vice-versa. "That's right Nica, fingerprints, YOUR fingerprints all over the murder weapons. Add to that an eye witness with a flawless service record, that intruded on your little party."

"I was defending myself!" She leaned forward her eyes wild with anger, her voice growing louder.

"From what? A fucking doll?" He asked laughing again. "Seriously Nica, you can't give us anything better than this? This is your testimony?" He stared at her and she stared right back, slowly leaning back in her wheelchair again. She turned her head, fed up of looking at the smug grin he'd let appear as he mocked her.

"You don't understand." She muttered, nearly inaudible.

"Oh I think we understand more than you think." He shot straight back. "Ever heard of a place called Dawning Day Nica?" Sheriff Monroe asked, his deputy scribbling notes at an increasing rate. She spun her head and looked at him.

"Yes." Her reply stern and cold.

"What can you tell me about it?"

"Please Sheriff let's stick to the investigation." Jeff countered.

"I am, believe me." He addressed Jeff before turning to look at Nica again from across the table. "Well?"

"It's an 'Assisted Living' community for the disabled. What's your point?" She snapped.

"And say I found a brochure for this place in your house. How would you imagine it got there?" Sheriff Monroe asked, quietly now.

"My sister brought it." Nica swallowed, and shook her hair over her shoulders. "She, thought I'd be interested, it was somewhere near her and Ian."

"But you weren't keen?"

"Not especially. I can manage just fine."

"But your sister," He paused and looked over at Anderson's pad, "Barb is it? Barb didn't think you could?"

"Barb and Ian had money trouble." Nica laughed, "She admitted so herself, in front of Father Frank no less. Print Media was 'dead', Ian was working at Starbucks for God's sake. That wasn't good enough for her! She had to keep her head high in whatever social circles she was known in. It was all about the money. She didn't care less about me!" Said Nica.

"Right. So she wanted to what?", he lifted his hands and made a juggling motion, "Sell the house? I'm assuming you been sisters you both got an equal share of your mother's assets?"

"Yes. She wanted to sell the house. Wanted me to use my half to go live in some damned community outreach program. Happy?" She viciously retorted.

"Well didn't that appeal to you, not even a bit?" Monroe asked.

"Not especially no. Having people constantly checking on me to make sure I could use the bathroom? Checking in first thing on a morning and last thing at night? I've had nothing but that all my life, I'm tired of it, being smothered by all the unwanted, over the top, care and attention!"

"So I'm going out on a limb here." He sat back and looked at Nica, a wry smile spreading across his face yet again. "Barb suggested this, then you argued?"

"No we didn't argue." Nica remained calm.

"You put your point across then. That's a more pleasant description." Monroe softly suggested.

"Barb and Father Frank, they seemed to think they knew what was best for me."

As Nica finished her sentence there was a knock at the door.

"Enter!" Monroe shouted, turning his head for a second towards the door, then snapping it back, his glare focussed on Nica.

The door gently opened and a young female officer, about the same age as Nica, entered with a file. She shut the door behind her and walked round the table, stopping only to pass the file to Sheriff Monroe.

"Thank you Tracey." He smiled at her as she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He opened the file, his eyes scanning the pages, suddenly hitting upon something that brought an even bigger smile. He closed the file and placed it on the table, then lifted his gaze to Nica.

"Toxicology report's in. Father Frank Vasquez, unknown substance in the blood stream, substance identified as none other than rat poison." He monitored Nica's face for a reaction. "You know what that stuff does?" He asked. Nica shook her head, speechless. "You give a tiny little dose to a rat and, it runs off, not knowing what the hell it just ate. Five minutes later it gets into the blood stream, breaking down the molecular structure, basically turning the blood thinner every second, first the rat loses it's sight. The hearing goes pretty quickly too, next thing it starts haemorrhaging left right and centre as the blood literally tries to seep through it's skin."

"Jesus" Jeff couldn't help himself as he blinked and looked at the floor.

"You got rat poison up in that big old house?" He asked Nica. She nodded, slowly. Very slowly. "Well I'm guessing you found you had a rat problem and dealt with it accordingly. Would definitely explain why his damned car careered into oncoming traffic. The man was most probably blind and deaf when he died. But his other senses were working. He'll have felt every single second, not knowing what the hell was going on!"

"You seriously think I could do that?" She struggled to speak, her chest squeezing tight.

"Let me tell you what I think. Just off the top of my head." Monroe took a deep breath. " My guess is this. Since birth you've been the victim of an overprotective mother, sister too, people that think you don't know what you want, people that think they know what's best for you. I seriously think one day it got too much. I think you knew about this Charles Lee Ray episode from your mother's past and I definitely think you knew of this damned urban legend. So you had this doll delivered knowing full well what it could to your mother. I mean, a traumatic experience like the one you described inevitably leaves mental scars. You've already said it affected her in a negative way, turned her unto something of a recluse. Who knows what could push her over the edge, make her finally flip, maybe even..." He paused, the words on the tip of his tongue as he examined Nica's face. "Maybe even end it once and for all."

"What the hell?" Nica exclaimed.

"Suicide Nica. You figured this could push her into doing something drastic like killing herself."

"No!" She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head violently. "That's not right. I loved my mother!"

"We're not saying you didn't. But the pressure you were under..." He paused again, taking time to get his next accusation lined up. "... Then when she casually tossed it aside, showed no reaction whatsoever, you became desperate and turned to plan B"

"I don't get you." She quizzed him.

"You murdered her. Cold blood. Done. Finished."

"Are you sick?" She was becoming overwhelmed with anger, with disbelief, with terror.

"You then figured it was a job well done. Coroner rules it a suicide, you're free at last. What could be more perfect? But then Barb shows up, has plans about selling your home and putting you in this Dawning Day place, making your impending situation twice as bad as the one you've just managed to wriggle your way out of. That's when I think you seriously flipped out. Went full psycho. Father Frank agreeing with her, well he more or less wrote his own death warrant didn't he? Little rat poison, send him running on home where he'll probably die in front of the TV."

"I can't believe this!" Nica turned to Jeff, sat clicking his pen, looking at his lap as though he was also believing this shit.

"Then Nica I think you set about everybody else. The nanny was electrocuted. Somebody kicked a damn bucket over the electrical outlet her laptop was plugged into. Damn well fried her brains alive. With the power out I think you hid Alice away then set out for Ian. You crept in, found him asleep, seized your chance and WHAM" Monroe brought his hand down on the table, his palm making an ear splitting 'slap' as it connected. "Axe to the face, which going on the coroner's report actually induced an..." He paused, looking over at Andersons note pad. "Flick back a page Wayne." He said, focussing on the pages. Deputy Anderson flicked a page over, Monoroe ran his finger down a few lines before suddenly stopping. "An 'Acute Cardiac Event' it says here Nica."

"My god, no, you've got this all wrong!" She protested.

"That's when I reckon you encountered Barb. On the landing" He rubbed his chin. "You argued, it got heated, maybe she grabbed you... giving you the perfect chance. You pulled out that knife and again, WHAM!" His hand came down again. Even harder this time. Monroe ran his finger down Anderson's notes again. "Says here that the knife went in so hard it broke through the eye socket and entered the brain. But ultimately she suffered the same cause of death as Ian. Acute cardiac event. Basically, that means they were both so in shock they basically suffered heart attacks."

"I feel sick" Nica grabbed her stomach as though she was about to bring up what little she had managed to eat and drink.

"Then the rest we know. Officer Stanton walks in, finds you with the murder weapon in your hand and you panic. Your only option, the urban legend of Charles Lee Ray, and your 'Let's blame the doll' story..." He leaned back, his chair balancing on the rear two legs, placing his hands behind his head. "Which version of events do you think a jury's gonna believe Nica?"

Nica knew the answer. As she sat silent, her mind buckling under the strain and shock of the interrogation, Sheriff Monroe and his deputy Anderson rose to their feet.

"Jeff. I'll give you a few minutes with your client. But then she's going back to her cell." Monroe said as he held the door open for Anderson, who quietly dodged between the hulking frame of his superior and the door. He turned on his heels and left the room, leaving the door to shut slowly on it's own. After he had left there was a moment of silence. Nica was the first to speak.

"What can we do?" She innocently asked.

"What can we do?" Jeff laughed. "Hell, there's not a lot we can do!" He lifted his gaze from the pen he had been doodling in his pad with and turned to face Nica. "They've got everything. A motive. The murder weapons. Your fingerprints. Nobody else at the scene of the crime. Then to top it all you've just given them the holy grail of testimonies. This killer doll thing you've got going on? I never heard anything like it. Jesus."

"So what should we do?" She quietly queried, knowing the answer.

"In my professional opinion... Plead guilty."

"What?"

"You're a young girl, you've got your life ahead of you. You got the disability thing on your side, there's a chance we could say you were under strain, pressure became too much, with diminished responsibility I figure you could be out within twenty years."

"TWENTY YEARS?" Nica was ready to explode. Was she really hearing this?

"There's not much I can advise you other than that. The evidence is stacked against you. I promise if you go in front of any judge with that testimony, that evidence and a cast iron motive like that then he's gonna send you down for life. A guilty plea will lower the punch and maybe convince him to show a little mercy."

"I'm not doing that! I've done nothing wrong!" She screamed.

"Look we'll run with this. If that's what you want. Heck, it ain't me that's staring five life sentences in the face. But my advice would be plead guilty. Trust me, you'll wish you did. Just let me know what you want to do Nica."

"I'm pleading innocent. Because that's what I fucking am!" She spat, venom oozing through her words. Jeff sat, head bowed, not knowing what else to say. Finally he lifted his head and stood, grabbing his briefcase and coat.

"Okay. That's what you want. Just so long as you remember Nica. You chose this." As he finished, the door opener and Alf entered.

"You guys done?" He asked, his thick white moustache moving side to side as he stared over the rims of his glasses. "I've been asked to escort Miss Pierce here back to her cell."

"We're done." Jeff said as he slid his coat on. "I'll get my defence notes submitted and find out a date for the preliminary hearing. Probably not be long, nothing happens in this town, and something like this is bound to attract unwanted media attention. They'll want it done with before the vultures can circle."

With that Jeff left. As Nica was wheeled back to her cell, she sat in a daze. Not hearing a word the old man was saying.

Two nights later, Nica had a dream. It was the same dream she'd had the night before. And the night before that. She was stood, actually stood, in a howling gale, vast open countryside, trees completely bare, the branches resembling the fingers of a thousand corpses. She was stood at the top of a hill looking out over the moors of wherever she was. Everything was in black and white, except for the lake to her left. There was a cove where holidaymakers sat, barbecues were burning, the sun beating down on them, some were even taking a dip in the lake. The weather was completely different down there. But the water wasn't right. It was red. Dark red like... Blood. As they emerged from the lake their bodies dripping in the viscous mess, laughing and joking. Why weren't they washing it off? Nica was screaming from the top of the hill but nobody could hear her. Though there was one man that turned and acknowledged her. The same bright red shirt, the very same dark glasses and the same head of thick wavy brown hair. He gave Nica a knowing look and then nodded his head as he winked. She knew him. She'd seen him before. Just as she was trying to remember where he raised his hand and pointed. Her eyes followed his finger and, surprised, she noticed something had appeared next to her on the hill. A dark grey, brittle, slab of concrete chipped along the outer edges, it stood protruding from the ground demanding her attention. As she stood back to take a better look, she noticed there was an inscription.

'CHARLES LEE RAY  
>DIED NOV 9TH 1988'<p>

Nica felt a pain in her finger and lifted it to examine the cause. As she slowly raised her hand she realised she had a solitary red rose, her hand clamped round it like a vice, the thorns digging in causing blood to run down her hand, stream down her wrist and to her elbow, dripping, splashing delicately on the freshly dug earth. Next thing she knew she was leaning over the grave and in the slowest of motions, she dropped the rose at the foot of the headstone. Suddenly a hand shot out of the earth, grabbing Nica tightly by the wrist. She screamed but nothing came, the holiday makers still played in the sun, still ate and drank. But the man with the red shirt jist kept staring, nodding his approval. Nica looked at the hand that had so viciously grabbed her and noticed how small it was. She struggled to free herself but the more she pulled the tighter it clung on. She pulled harder the arm exposed more and more, the red, green and blue sleeve faded, the dirt ground in, suddenly a face appeared in the dirt, a mangled mess of stitches, staples, plastic and metal. Chucky giggling, laughing in his insane high pitched shrieks. All of a sudden his other arm shot up and grabbed Nica around the same arm and Nica couldn' fight it any more. She was being pulled towards the dark, sludgy earth. The next thing she knew the ground was rumbling and next to the grave the earth started to break up, a fresh, brand new headstone, immaculate condition, rising from the ground. Chucky now had his arms clamped firmly around her neck, dragging her ever closer towards the infinite abyss. She managed to get a better view of the new headstone. What she saw filled her with nausea.

'NICA PIRCE  
>DIDN'T WANT TO PLAY<br>2013'

One more hysterical bellow of laughter and Chucky pulled again. Nica had lost the battle and her face was pulled violently into the dirt, suffocating her.

That was when she woke up with a scream. Sweat dripping down her face, her arms swinging wildly. She took a few seconds to remember where she was and started to calm down, taking deep breaths. It was then that she noticed a figure stood at the bars of her cell. Overcoat on, briefcase down by its side and a forlorn look. She rubbed her eyes, confused as to what was going on. What time was it?

"Mr Marshall?" She whispered.

"Hello Nica." He responded.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" She asked, urgency in her voice. He didn't say anything, but motioned for Alf to step out of the shadows and unlock the cell door. As he did, the lock gave an almighty creak, followed by a heavy and welcome click as it sprang open. Jeff entered the room and pulled up a stool, the legs scraping across the concrete floor of the cell as he did so. He sat, giving Nica a sympathetic look and placed his hand delicately on her shoulder.

"The judge has been over the case notes Nica. First thing this morning he called a meeting with the defence and prosecution counsels." Jeff explained.

"And?" She asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"Before the judge wastes any time and money on this case he wants to be sure that a prosecution is in the best interests of the courts." He answered her.

"What does that mean?"

"He's requested a psychiatric report Nica. You're off to Green Acre Sanitarium."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI - Madness**

The nightmares continued...

Night after night, the same images flashing across her mind like a runaway freight train...

Mom, Barb, Ian, Jill, Father Frank...

And Alice...

Sweet, innocent Alice. What had she ever done to deserve this misery? What must she be going through? Did she think Nica had done all this? What had she been told? Where was she now? Who was she with?

So many questions...

But in these questions, slowly turning her mind inside out, Nica had found strength. The strength to stay sharp, believe in herself, remain strong and see it through to the bitter end. She was determined to show them how right she had been. But it was getting tougher. Tougher than she was able to manage. Every night she'd wake up, heart thudding in her chest, attempting to abandon her body and break free. Sweat streaming from every pore, soaking her bed. Her screams filling the corridors of Green Acre with terror and dementia.

And every night 'they' would show up. Flashlights blinding, her retinas shocked into submission, the metal on metal scrape of the key sliding into the lock as they entered her room. More pills. She didn't need them, it was just a bad dream. But they wouldn't listen. It was as though the sadistic sons of bitches enjoyed it. Especially Grant. She would visibly tremble when she saw the frame of Green Acre's senior night nurse at her door. His silhouette outlined by the torch of whichever minion was following on behind. His keys hanging from his belt as he tapped his flashlight on his thigh. Approaching Nica with a smug, satisfied grin. A plastic beaker in the other hand.

More pills.

"That time again, huh Pirce?" He'd casually say as he sauntered in, carrying an air of arrogance, turning his head to admire her room. "Let's get these down you. They'll make it okay..."

She'd protest at first, but that was no use. She'd hold her hand out, shielding her eyes from the intense light focused on her. Then 'CRACK'. He'd bring his flashlight down so hard on her wrist she'd be forced to recoil. Sat cradling her nearly broken arm he'd grab her. Sitting on the bed behind her, he'd swing his flashlight across her throat and pull, choking her, till she relented and held up her hands. Grabbing the plastic beaker full of meds, he'd then watch her take every one, checking her mouth after, grabbing her cheeks in one hand and squeezing, her lips parting so he could double check.

"These are what keep the crazy out! Don't fight it." He'd spit at her. "You sing our song and you'll fit in here. Just remember that. Now get back to sleep, and don't have me coming down here again."

Reaching her room door he'd turn and look at her. Nica figured he stood at about just over six feet tall. His shoulders could have been carved from oak and his muscular physique was intimidating to even the most able bodied of inmates. His white uniform fit to burst as he patrolled the corridors with an iron fist.

"Not unless you want some 'one-on-one' time." He'd smile, giving her a quick wink.

Nica couldn't look at him. She instead chose to bury her head in the pillow. Soothing her throat with her good hand. Then when the bastard finally left she'd cry.

Just cry...

The sky blue Toyota Prius exited the highway and cautiously navigated the narrow dirt path, the beautiful sunlight bouncing off the waxed paintwork blinding all that clapped eyes on it. Slowing to allow for any opposing traffic, it followed the weaving road for half a mile, snaking in and out of various lay bys and flashing it's lights to allow oncoming motorists to proceed. Within a few minutes it came to a halt at the gates. Wire mesh fencing surrounding the perimeter for miles, it added to the daunting look of the facility, sat deep in the woodland countryside, invisible from the highway. The window of the Prius gently lowered as a slender, elegant hand softly entered a six digit code on the key pad, activating the runners on the sliding gate. The electric motors whirring into life as the window of the Prius retreated back up. The car waited for the gate to open wide enough before steadily moving off and down the tarmac, reaching the car park in no time at all. The car pulled nose first into a parking bay, reversing a touch, then pulling forward again to straighten up between the painted white lines. The engine came to an abrupt stop and the driver's door opened, the heeled shoes striking the cement with a sharp click before standing to reveal the petite frame of Dr Abigail Weston. 31 years of age and standing at around 5' 5" she wasn't much taller than the car she was driving, her heels adding an extra three or four inches and also lending her an extra bit of confidence. Her long blonde hair swept back in a pony tail, revealing a beautiful, kind face, one the inmates of Green Acre had come to know well, but also trust and respect. Her sharp, grey business suit giving her a more professional appearance than the white smock and hair net from the early days of her career. True she had aspired to go as far as possible with her profession, but she missed the days of just turning up and putting in a shift. Leaving work behind while she curled up on the settee with her dog and a bottle of wine. Not like now. There was no 'down time' any more. Walking round the car she opened the passenger door and leaned in, grabbing her Starbucks coffee from the drinks holder and picking up her briefcase. She then slammed the door and pressed the fob, the hazard lights quickly blinking, the remote central locking performing the usual double click to ensure her car was secure. Not that she had any reason to worry. Nobody had ever stolen a car down here. If they did, they then had to get through the security gates and various guards. Getting in was the easy bit, getting out was the laborious task she dreaded every day. Showing her ID card, having the car searched occasionally, just to make sure she hadn't picked up a stowaway. Rumour had it that once happened. Dr Samuel Hunter left work one night, well before Dr Weston's time, not knowing that one of his patients had broken free of his room and hid under some blankets on the backseat. He forced Dr Hunter to pull over then casually slit his throat from the back seat using a knife from the doctor's fishing box. When the police found him a mile away he was sat at the side of the car cradling the knife in his hands and laughing. It didn't end well, he got up, knife in hands and the two officers put seven bullets in him. Since then they'd introduced thorough searches and various other security techniques. Regaining her thoughts Dr Weston quickly moved across the car park, reaching the steps and climbing to the glass double doors, so heavy and stiff. She entered the lobby of Green Acre and crossed the marble floor to reception.

"Dr Weston!" Joyce called out. African-American and weighing in at around 280lbs, Joyce was the bubbliest person in the place. Jokes had been made about how she should actually be in with the rest of inmates, such was her infectious persona. Joyce's eyes shot to Dr Weston's coffee cup, steam escaping through the vent in the lid. "Oh now girl, you tell me that shit's for me!" She sarcastically giggled.

"Hey if I'd have known..." Dr Weston started.

"Yeah, if you'd have known then your skinny ass still would've 'forgot'!" She laughed. "You see the watered down shit they got us here? That damn coffee machine can't even do that right. I swear I'm gonna start bringin' my own shit in here." Her eyes opening wildly as she filed paperwork left over from the night shift. Dr Weston laughed as she placed her briefcase on the reception desk.

"Anything for me this morning?" She asked.

"Hell no. Not unless you count your friend in 208 causing havoc again? Tell you something, I am so glad I don't work those nights no more. The notes I'm finding every morning, seems like she's keeping this whole place awake!"

"You mean Miss Pirce?" Dr Weston asked.

"Hell yeah. That crazy ass bitch with the doll thing."

"How do you know..."

"Hell girl everybody knows about that. You try keeping something a secret in this place then you might as well lock your ass in one of those rooms, 'cuz that's just a crazy ass idea for a start! Says here they had to give her meds. Again!" Joyce handed Dr Weston a hand written note.

"What?" She gasped. "She's only here for observation." Looking over the paperwork, turning the sheets over and over in her hands. "Just what the fuck does Eric think he's doing?"

"Eric Grant? He still reckon he's in charge up there?" Joyce laughed. "Only reason he's got that damn night shift is so the board of governors don't get to see his crazy ass methods during their rounds. Somebody oughtta tip them off about his little 'God complex'"

"Well..." Dr Weston paused. "This should make todays assessment entertaining."

With that Joyce gave Dr Weston a smile as the phone rang. As she answered it Dr Weston waved and mouthed her goodbyes as she headed over to the lifts in the corner of the lobby. Waiting she pulled out the notes for her first patient review of the day.

Nica Pirce.

As Nica sat in her room staring out of the window she heard a tap at her door. She spun round quickly to examine her guest. One of the orderlies peeked his face around the door. His short black hair and chubby physique giving way to a smile and a nod of the head.

"Nearly time for your appointment Nica." He said. "What you think? You want to take a shower?"

"Not especially Warren, no." She answered, turning back to the window.

"You sure?" He asked again.

Nica turned, just her head, and looked at him again.

"Yes I'm sure. Or is that something else that's been decided for me?" She glared. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Well..." He looked at the floor, as though embarrassed. "I've been asked to take you for your appointment with Dr Weston, so I Kinda have to do that..." His voice trailed off into a barely audible murmur.

"I'm well capable of doing it myself!" She answered, turning again to the window. The forest outside, lush greens and rain sodden brown bark, the occasional breeze lifting the branches of the tree to reveal the odd squirrel, storing nuts.

"Inmates aren't supposed to be on their own. Unless they're in the common area. Besides I've been told to take you for a shower." He seemed apologetic as he told her this.

"What?"

"Well in the three weeks you've been here, you've only had two showers. And they were in the first 4 days." He said

"You're keeping check on how often I shower?" She laughed, her head tilting back. "That's good. And they think I'm the crazy one?" Still laughing.

"Well will you have one?" He moved a little further into the room. Nica noticed and spun her wheelchair in his direction, moving forward to meet him halfway.

"The last thing on my mind right at this moment Warren is whether I get a shower or not!" She angrily replied to him. "I'm in here trying to convince you all I'm not out of my head and you're preaching to me about personal hygiene?"

"I didn't mean to..." But Nica interrupted.

"I'm fed up of this place, the pointless meetings, repetitive questions, the scans, the tests. I've just watched my entire family die and you're in here coming out with this?" She scolded him.

"I'm sorry, I was just asked to have a word. We've had a couple of complaints about the sme..." He was cut off again.

"In answer to your question Warren, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." She paused as he stood staring, a vacant expression spread across his face. "In other words no! I will not have a FUCKING SHOWER!" She screamed at him, lurching forward, causing him to turn on his heels and flee.

With Warren gone she returned to the window and the peaceful view. She figured in a minute or two somebody else would be down, then it'd be getting too late and she'd just have to go up to her assessment as she was. Sure enough she was right. Warren returned with one of the other orderlies.

"Well?" Nica said, just sitting there not moving. "Shall we?" A smile crossed her lips as she stared at them both.

Nica sat in her chair as she was pushed through the halls and corridors toward the interview room where Dr Weston was waiting. What the fuck was a shower going to solve anyway. She wasn't getting out of this place and she knew it! Fuck it. As far as she was concerned they thought she was crazy. But she knew the truth. She knew about Chucky and they didn't believe her. But they'd be sorry. He could show up tonight and she'd be ready for him. They wouldn't though, because they didn't believe. They didn't believe so they'd probably die. Just like she did every night in her dreams. Whether it was an axe, a knife, an electrocution or even the slow painful death caused by the rat poison Father Frank had eaten. She'd thought long about this while she was in Green Acre. Out of everybody, just who was Father Frank? She'd hardly known him. Fuck him. He wasn't on the ball like Nica was now. Neither was Barb, Ian or Jill. Or her mother for that matter. Maybe if she'd worried about her own problems she'd still be alive now. But did they all deserve to die? She was starting to think now that maybe her surviving the whole ordeal was God's way of telling her she was the fittest of them all. She was looked down on for her disability, but did that make her easier to kill? No way. The ginger little fucker couldn't do it. He just stood there basking in his assumed glory. She'd wound him up when she mentioned Andy Barclay. Wound him up big time, especially when she asked if he was a male. Ha. What a look he gave her. Promised to kill her slow. Well here she was, twenty five years later and still alive and kicking. Whoops, no not kicking, that would never be possible, what was she thinking? She started giggling to herself as she thought about that, her hair, a mess resembling a rats nest, falling over her face as she leaned forward, hand to her mouth, giggling, louder and louder until she realised people were looking. Orderlies, inmates, even the janitor had stopped mopping the common room floor to see what was so funny. She glanced around, smiling to herself and sat back in her chair. Her nightgown, still showing the signs of that fateful night. She put her hands down and grabbed the wheels of her chair, causing it to stop suddenly, alarming Warren who was pushing from behind. The other orderly looked at him with a questioning look then to Nica.

"What's wrong?" He asked, stooping down to her level. "What you stopped for?"

"Either of you know what's good for getting blood out?" She asked as she looked at her nightgown, rolling the fabric around in her hands.

The orderly stood back up and raised his hand, just clipping her around the back of the head. Not hard, but just to let her know to stop fucking them about. They carried on until they turned a corner and there in front of them sat the room Nica had become so accustomed to. The doctor awaits.

Dr Weston sat behind the desk, bringing up Nica's file on her monitor. She'd been involved with Nica since she was first admitted and was kind of sat on the fence with her. She felt great sympathy for what she'd been through and the life she'd had, but these stories were so farfetched. Various scans and tests all showed she believed her own version of events and there was an air of innocence that Dr Weston felt couldn't go unaddressed. That's why she'd demanded Nica be evaluated over a thirty day period instead of just five days. There was no way she was telling the truth, you'd have to be mad to believe that, but was Nica mad? She didn't seem so. Not at first. She'd been so different when she first came in. Quiet, but approachable and willing to converse about various matters. But now... All she'd do is have fits over the slightest thing. She'd shown an aggressive attitude towards a number of staff and even other inmates. She wouldn't talk about anything now. Anything except that doll. She'd become obsessed. It was all she lived to talk about. She wouldn't even talk about her family now. She'd been all for telling tales of her mother and sister, how she'd always been treated differently but they were a loving family and Nica knew they only wanted the best for her. Now, it was only the doll. Her behaviour had become erratic too. Completely unexpected mood swings. Dr Weston didn't want to admit it, but she was starting to crack and unfortunately show her true colours. This was going to be Nica's last chance to regain some respect and help herself out. If she carried on down this slippery slope then Dr Weston would have no choice. Just as she was clicking through the file her door opened and in rolled the fragile looking frame of Nica Pierce. The first thing Dr Weston noticed was the smell. She'd asked that the orderlies help her shower as it was becoming unbearable during the assessments for it to be endured. She'd started letting herself go with her hygiene, claiming it wasn't important, that she'd be probably be dead soon no matter how clean or dirty she was. Dr Weston also noticed other things. She always had a good look at a patient before she set about speaking to them. You can figure out a lot that way. Nica's hair hadn't seen a comb in a long time, probably about the same time that she'd stopped showering, and it seemed that she'd stopped brushing her teeth. Her breath wasn't so bad, but it was noticeable. Even her attire was a mess. She'd had a case full of clothes brought up and at first it seemed to be doing her good having things she was familiar with in her room, especially the clothes. She could get changed whenever she wanted, she could use the laundry service on offer, but this last week or so, she'd had this nightgown on. Slightly ragged and stained in places. Dr Weston didn't want to broach the subject, but she was pretty sure the stains were blood. Human blood. She turned the monitor off and swivelled her chair, standing to walk round the table and greet her guest.

"Good morning Nica." She extended her hand towards her. Nica just stared at it. Like she was unsure what to do.

'Don't think so bitch. You're the one that's keeping me locked in this fucking place and you're pretending to be my 'friend'?' Nica thought to herself. 'Yeah right. Go fuck yourself. You should think yourself lucky I can't stand up! ' She carried on with her thoughts.

Dr Weston retracted her hand and put it down to the early morning start. Usually these meetings were in the afternoon, but today was scheduled first thing.

"So." She asked, motioning for the orderlies to take a seat at the back of Nica. "I hear we had a rough night again."

"Did we?" Nica's eyes slowly moved up to meet the doctor's. "I don't remember you being there!"

"I beg your pardon?" She asked, puzzled.

"Where were you when I was assaulted by your damned staff? At home? In bed? With your husband?" Nica continued.

"Well I didn't mean to..." She started to answer.

"No, nobody here means to do anything. You're all good at turning a blind eye, slipping someone the odd pills and acting like nothing's going on!"

"I'm sorry Nica. I didn't mean to upset you." She calmly replied. "You mentioned being assaulted?"

"It doesn't matter." Nica looked away, folding her arms. Pulling them into her chest and hiding the bruise she had gained the night before. "No doubt it'll be dismissed... As usual."

"No, no. If something's happened then I want to know. Your well being is my main priority." At this Nica laughed, pretty loud, her head shooting back before she nearly doubled over in hysterics. "What is it?"

"My well being? If my well being's so god damned important then why the fuck am I still here?"

"We need to be sure you're okay Nica that's all."

"I'm fine!" She carried on laughing. "My entire family's dead. You all think I did it. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

"It's just your version of events that don't make sense. You can understand that can't you? Why you're here?" Dr Weston sat back on the edge of her desk. Nica's laughter turned to giggles, then slowly into tears as she brought her hand up to her eyes heartbroken.

"I don't know why I'm here." She sobbed, the words starting to come out between breaths. "I don't know what's what anymore."

"Nica, look at me" Dr Weston leaned forward tapping Nica's hand. Cuts ran across the fingers of Nica's hand. She'd noticed this before, when Nica was first admitted. When asked about it Nica said that the doll had done it. Sliced at her as she hid in the lift at her home. But that wasn't making any sense, just like the rest of Nica's story. "Nica, let's talk. We'll talk about anything. Whatever you want. Your mother? Your sister?" Nica looked up tears in her eyes, her face a bright red mess and gently nodded. "Good, good. What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about Charles Lee Ray!" She said, getting louder with every word.

"But Nica, Nica." She almost whispered. "He's dead. Charles Lee Ray is dead."

"No he isn't. Can't you just understand?" She screamed. "He's alive, he's in that fucking doll. I know it, I saw it." She started crying again. "Why won't you believe me? I've done all your tests, I've done them all but you still won't believe me."

"Look Nica, I'm pretty sure it felt real. To you I mean. But it's impossible. Can't you see that?"

"It 'felt' real?" Nica angrily retorted. "Maybe we should lock you in a room with the fucking thing and see how 'real' it feels to you!"

"Okay Nica, let's stop right now..."

"See how it feels when he tries to stick a knife in your fucking heart! When he kills your entire family, all you've got in the world, and then leaves you to take the fucking fall!" She screamed again, even louder. "Oh it'll feel fucking real then... Because it'll happen." She started wheeling towards Dr Weston but Warren and the unnamed orderly grabbed the back of her chair.

"Nica calm down." Dr Weston motioned with her palms. "Calm down and we can continue the conversation."

"But it will!" She said, staring at the doctor with venom, straight in the eyes. "He'll come here. Just wait and see if he doesn't. And when he does he'll be looking for me!" Nica's hands shot out pointing straight at the doctor. "And he'll sure as hell be coming for you. And these two assholes!" She motioned to the two orderlies behind her, still hanging onto her wheelchair. "In fact fuck it! Keep me in here. Let's see the little prick try and get in! Make him work for his fucking thrill!"

"But why would he come here?" Dr Weston asked. "Let's go with this Nica. You want me to believe you. Let's say I believe you."

"Because I'm unfinished business." Her reply short, with anger running through it.

"But you've just said it yourself. For him to come here it'd be ridiculous to even attempt it. Insane even."

"You seriously haven't listened to a fucking word have you 'doctor'?" Nica's tone was direct. "He'll come here because he knows he can. He'll probably get one of you idiots to carry him up here! You've already said it yourself. Nobody believes me, so who's going to suspect the fucking thing?!"

"Nica, I can assure you, if something of that description were to arrive on the premises, the police would be alerted and we'd find who sent it." She tried reassuring her.

"Then you turn your back. Don't you see? Once he's here he's here." She paused, looking at the doctor, panic in her eyes. "It's too late. That's what he does! He gets in, he doesn't care if you call the cops. By the time they get here we're all dead. Everybody's dead... Only this time I'll not be the one left to pick up the pieces!"

"Okay, okay. Just take a moment, relax, calm down." Dr Weston massaged her temples, struggling to think of a way to turn the conversation back onto a more pleasant subject. "Nica, tell me again why..." Nica suddenly held up her hand, index finger protruding from her fist, eyes wild and rolling round in there sockets.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhh!" She brought her finger to her lips, still looking. She started to move her head, looking everywhere, then slowly started to wheel forward. Warren jumped up, but Dr Weston held out her hand, a silent order to stand down. Nica wheeled over to the doctor's desk, looking underneath and around the back of the examination table. She opened a low cupboard, taking a quick look inside at the empty wooden housing and then closing the door again.

"What is it Nica?" Dr Weston whispered. Nica turned and held her finger up again. Telling the doctor to remain quiet. She carried on searching until there was nowhere else left.

"I thought he was here." She said, quietly.

"Who Nica? You thought who was here?"

"Chucky! Who do you think?"

"But Nica. You're completely safe here. Nobody's coming for you."

"I'll never be safe." Nica's head dropped and she bowed her head. The tears starting to come again. Dr Weston, feeling for Nica's pain, rose from the edge of her desk and approached her, doubled over in the wheelchair. Sane or not, Nica was going through hell and she knew it. She knelt down next to Nica and put a hand on her knee, knowing she wouldn't feel it, but wanting to offer her reassurances, maybe take her mind off everything that had brought her world to a grinding halt.

"Listen," She again whispered softly. "I want to help you Nica, but you have to see how things look." She turned her head to the two orderlies, just in time to see their faces go from apprehension to complete shock. It didn't register at first, not for a split second. But by the time it did it was too late, she'd just started turning her head back to Nica when she felt it. Searing pain in the back of her hand, travelling up her arm, into her neck and into her brain, telling her, screaming at her that something was wrong. It was pain. She looked down at her hand, a hypodermic syringe sticking out with pride. A slight wobble, as Nica relinquished her grip, making the needle connect with the bone it had slightly grazed. Her arm went stiff with shock as her face took on a terrified, surprised look. Her gaze shifting to Nica's face, barely visible underneath a tangled mess of brunette curls, a snarl placed across her lips, anger, venom and loathing ejected from her eyes and straight at Dr Weston. The two orderlies sprung up in unison and dashed over to the doctor, they tried to pull her hand away, both of them hands wrapped around Dr Weston's wrist, tugging, pulling with all their strength, but each time the doctor let out a blood curdling scream.

"It's gone straight through. Straight fucking through!" Warren screamed at his colleague.

"What?" He shouted back, still pulling, Dr Weston screaming in agony at every effort to remove her hand from Nica's knee.

"The fucking needle! It's in her leg too!" Warren, now red in the face as he bellowed. "That's what the bitch was doing just now! Looking for something!"

They both looked at Nica, as she flung her head back, hair flying from her face and over her shoulders as she took a huge breath before lowering her head, staring them out.

"Here." Warren said as he grabbed the syringe and started pulling upwards.

"NOOOO!" Dr Weston screamed. "Pull my hand. Jesus!"

Warren grabbed the syringe and Dr Weston's hand then started slowly pulling both upwards. Dr Weston gave a scream of pain every now and then but Warren kept lifting, until finally the syringe left Nica's leg. A trickle of blood leaking from the puncture wound and running down her leg, hitting her ankle and dripping to the floor. Dr Weston looked at her hand, the syringe going straight through, resembling a joke injury, the sort kids buy at joke shops.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" She looked at Nica, shock and confusion reigning across her face.

"It'll be worse than that when he comes bitch!" Nica grunted. "That was nothing!"

"Get her out of here!" Dr Weston yelled. The orderlies, mouths still gaping from the event that had just unfolded in front of them, gathered their thoughts and grabbed Nica's wheelchair, spinning her towards the door, her head jerking back with the force they used. As they pushed her back down the corridors towards her room she leaned forward and laughed. Only a little bit. Quietly.

That turned out to be her last assessment. She had a visit from Jeff a few days later. He commented on how rough she looked and how she had to hold it together, but it went in one ear and out the other. She wasn't bothered. She'd no more energy left to burn. Her fight had long dwindled out. As one of the other inmates quipped, "Her get up and go, had gotten up and gone!" But it would come back. She knew she'd be ready for him when he came back. And that's where everybody who ever doubted her would fail. Until then she'd just take whatever they threw at her. Because Nica had seen hell. She'd seen it when she stared into 'his' face. The twisted haunted soul of Charles Lee Ray flickering to life and turning her world upside down and inside out.

The police arranged transport to the court for the preliminary hearing. Nica wasn't expecting all she witnessed though. They took her in the back way to avoid paparazzi, and the general public, but it was only when she was wheeled into the main courtroom she was taken aback by the attendance. Journalist, squeezed into the back with their cameras and various other equipment. The public that had taken their seats, Nica didn't know one person, but they had all turned up to see how this played out. The demented ramblings of Nica Pirce. Then she noticed, sat front row, far right was Officer Stanton. 'Probably turned up to bask in his glory' she thought to herself. She was wheeled to the front of the court where she met with Jeff and his young assistant, then waited as the judge made his way up to his seat. Nica didn't know what to expect, but she knew it couldn't be good either way. Nobody believed her. No matter how hard she had tried. In the end she just decided to take whatever came and be ready. Because there would be a next time, she was sure of it. Suddenly the judge spoke, Nica could hear every word, loud and clear, but she wasn't paying attention. Not like everybody else that had squeezed and crushed their way into the public gallery waiting for their pound of flesh.

"Good morning everybody." He spoke, unfolding his glasses before positioning them on the tip of his nose. "I'll make this brief and quick. It is my professional opinion that there has already been more than enough time and money wasted on this elaborate farce."

He pulled up some notes. Nica guessed they were from the glowing report Dr Abigail Weston had written, which would have made for some interesting reading, she was sure. After browsing through the notes for a good minute the judge removed his glasses. His silver hair combed over, his greying beard highlighted even further by the jet black gown he wore to preside over each case.

"Based on the evidence." He paused, glancing up, his eyes taking in the assembled media and general public. "The defendant is declared legally incompetent, and remanded, indefinitely, to a facility for the criminally insane!"

There were gasps from the public. The news had no sooner left his lips than the court guard removed a pair of handcuffs from her belt and quietly clamped them around Nica's wrists. Her head was buzzing, blurry, just noise, nothing cohesive. Jeff leaned over but Nica never heard the words that left his mouth. Before she knew it she was being led by the guard past a table lined up with evidence. The rat poison that claimed the life of Father Frank, a box she had seen hundreds of times before and never given even a second glance. The axe that had once been embedded so deep in her own leg, the knife... Then Chucky. He sat at the end of the table. Completely still. Staring into space, probably laughing to himself in his head at how things had ended up. But she knew that somewhere in there it would be eating away at him that yet another of his prey had escaped the net he carefully laid out for them. She seized her chance, suddenly spinning her head as she passed him and leaning over so that he could definitely hear her over the noise floating around the courtroom.

"I'm alive you son of a bitch, you hear me?" She kept on rolling, past the court reporter, towards the exit.

"I'M STILL ALIVE!" turning her head again, screaming back over her shoulder, laughing, giggling to herself. She wanted him to hear her, she wanted him to be furious and overcome with rage. She knew he wouldn't expose himself in public like this, but she wanted him to know.

She had survived everything he'd thrown at her.

She'd survived...

"I'm still alive..."


End file.
